《参同直指》

The wondrous method of the Great Elixir described in the Cantong qi takes Heaven and Earth as its model. As Heaven and Earth move and operate, the Five Phases—Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth—emerge and differentiate. When the Five Phases follow the natural order, all things are born and perish. When their movement is reversed, the Elixir can remain wondrously alive and endure.

All things first appear from emptiness, and from this the two primal forces of Yin and Yang open the way for creation. The Four Images—the forms taken by changes in Yin and Yang, such as Metal, Wood, Water, and Fire—remain rooted in these two forces, while the Eight Trigrams arise through their interweaving. All phenomena emerge through change, as do good and ill fortune, regret, and anxiety. Ordinary people use these principles every day without knowing their roots; sages, by contrast, can investigate their source.

The Way of the Yi is subtle and profound, encompassing the principles of Heaven and Earth, so it uses hexagrams and written words to express them. When the Qi of Heaven and Earth joins, it gives rise to the rising and falling of Yin and Yang represented by the Pi and Tai hexagrams. The Zhun and Meng hexagrams represent the alternation of movement and stillness, like the changes between morning and evening. Kan and Li represent man and woman, and Water and Fire; Zhen and Dui represent the dragon and tiger, and the hun and po souls. To hold to the centered and proper Way is to be as the Book of Changes says: “Yellow robes bring supreme good fortune.” But to grow arrogant at the height of one’s power is to become like the “Overreaching Dragon” and lose one’s honored position.

The Ji Ji and Wei Ji hexagrams explain how things come to an end and begin anew; the Fu and Gou hexagrams show the coming and meeting of Yin and Yang Qi. The waxing and waning of the moon correspond to the flourishing and decline of spirit, while the sun’s rising and setting correspond to changes in the warmth and coolness of Rongwei Qi, the Qi and blood that sustain the body’s functioning.

Words are set down to make the hexagrams clear; once the hexagrams are understood, the words can be forgotten. A hexagram is like a finger pointing toward meaning; once the true meaning is grasped, the hexagram too can be set aside. Those who understand the Way grasp its simple, straightforward principles, while those who are confused only become entangled in greater complexity as they study. For this reason, those who cultivate the Dao should not cling to the hexagrams and phrases when studying the Cantong qi.

Preface to Direct Guidance to the Cantong qi

The Way of the Seven Returns and Nine Restorations, the Great Return Elixir of Golden Liquid, is a secret kept by Heaven and Earth and feared by ghosts and spirits. Sages of every generation have passed it down orally…

“Seven Reversions and Nine Returns” refers to an important method of alchemical practice, while “Great Return Elixir of Golden Liquids” is the name of an alchemical method in the Daoist Neidan tradition. The author says that these ways of cultivation were hidden deep within Heaven and Earth and guarded as secrets by spirits and ghosts. Since ancient times, sages of successive generations had passed them on orally, without putting them into writing. Thus, although many people studied the Dao, very few truly understood its principles. Moreover, there were numerous heterodox paths and deviations that often confused the true with the false and passed the false off as true. Even those who aspired to cultivate the Dao could not necessarily distinguish truth from falsehood or avoid being misled.

In the Eastern Han, the Perfected Wei Boyang received instruction from the Perfected Yin of Longevity. After bringing the teachings together and fully understanding them, he completed the great work of cultivating the Dao. Moved by compassion for those in later generations who sought the Dao, he wrote the Cantong qi (“Token for Joining the Three”) on the basis of the principles of the Yi. He divided it into three parts: the opening part discusses the way of governing and putting teachings into practice, the middle part explains the principles of nourishing one’s nature, and the final part describes methods for ingesting elixirs. Though the book contains many sections, a single principle runs through them all. It uses concrete things as metaphors for what is formless, and visible images to explain the formless Dao; it also covers medicines, the firing process, and other matters.

After completing the book, Wei Boyang asked Master Xu to write commentaries on its three parts and clarify the Cantong qi’s deeper meaning. Wei Boyang also passed the book on to Chunyu Shutong, a fellow native of his commandery. Chunyu later wrote the two parts of the Sanxiang lei (“Three Categories of Similarities”), supplementing matters that the Cantong qi had not explained in detail. In the author’s view, the works of Wei Boyang, Master Xu, and Chunyu Shutong illuminate and complement one another. They differ from books written by later authors who relied on conjecture and imitation. A great many later alchemical scriptures took these works as their foundation, and so the Cantong qi came to be called the foremost of the alchemical scriptures through the ages. Zhu Xi wrote the Kaoyi (“Examination of Variants”) as a commentary on it, and Lu Jiuyuan, whose courtesy name was Xiangshan, also praised it. This shows that the book was highly esteemed by both the Confucian and Daoist traditions.

Over the centuries, however, the Cantong qi’s circulation led to increasing disorder in the sequence of its chapters. Commentators each developed their own interpretations: some reversed the order of passages, some mixed the scripture with its commentaries, and others inserted the preface into the main text. As a result, the meaning became disjointed and the order confused; it was even difficult to tell scripture from commentary, or to distinguish what came from Wei Boyang, Master Xu, or Chunyu Shutong. The whole book came to seem as though Wei Boyang alone had written it. Some also mistook it for a technique of sexual intercourse and contest, or for the firing of elixirs in external alchemy. In doing so, they slandered the sages’ teaching, obscured the orthodox methods of alchemy, and betrayed the three authors’ painstaking efforts to save later generations.

In the Renyin year of the Qianlong reign, the author happened by chance upon annotated editions by the anonymous Elder Perfected Weng and the Perfected Chen of Shangyangzi. These editions arranged the scripture and commentaries separately, kept the sequence relatively coherent, and clearly distinguished the scripture, commentaries, supplementary passages, and preface. Chen’s edition was more orderly than Weng’s, so the author used it as his basis, making slight adjustments to passages in the main text whose sequence was disjointed. He added comments section by section, explaining each passage that used things as metaphors, so readers could understand what the furnace and cauldron, medicines, Yin-Yang, the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), the precelestial and postcelestial, the firing process, cooking and refining, the inner and outer, and beginning and end referred to.

After completing the book, the author titled it Direct Explanation of the Cantong qi. He hoped that like-minded readers would understand, after reading it, that the Cantong qi teaches a secret Dao passed down orally by sages through the ages. He also considered the “Wuyuan” commentary to be no more than a shallow and convoluted interpretation. As for the remaining places where the sequence of chapters in the main text lacked coherence, the author hoped that discerning readers in later generations would continue to correct them.

Heaven and Earth embody firmness and yielding. They work together and accommodate one another: Yang takes the lead in setting things in motion, while Yin receives and responds; the feminine and masculine depend on each other. Yin and Yang must support one another for creation and transformation to proceed, and for Jing and Qi to unfold and flow freely.

Kan and Li—the water and fire trigrams, which also symbolize Yin and Yang—stand at the beginning, like radiance shining out and spreading downward. The Great Dao is deep and mysterious, beyond measure and impossible to depict in a diagram. By observing and reasoning from the sequence of Yin-Yang changes, the sages uncovered the roots of how the myriad things come into being. When Heaven and Earth, Yin and Yang, water and fire—the four—blend together, one may thereby enter the realm of the Void.

The sixty hexagrams revolve in sequence and spread out like the framework of a carriage. The dragon and horse take their places to draw it, and a wise ruler guides it in accord with the moment. When Yin and Yang are in harmony, one can move forward with the current along a level, straight road. Follow a crooked path, and the road becomes perilous, even bringing a state to ruin.

The Great Dao has no sound or taste. It is neither a visible form nor simply nothingness. What words could explain it? Yet when Yin and Yang are in harmony, the myriad things move forward with the current along a level road. Once one departs from the proper path, dangers arise and the state is put at risk.

The Great Dao has no sound or smell. It is neither a visible form nor sheer emptiness. What, then, is there to say about it? Yet within the soundless and odorless lie the transformations of Yin and Yang; within what is neither form nor emptiness lie the mysteries by which the myriad things come into being and develop. If nothing at all could be said, how would people know the waxing and waning of Yin and Yang, or understand the subtle workings of Heaven and Earth’s creation? As the ancients said, “The Dao itself is without words; words are used to make the Dao clear.”

Heaven does not keep the mysteries of the Dao to itself. A dragon-horse emerged from the Yellow River bearing the Hetu (River Chart), revealing Heaven’s secrets. Fuxi used the Hetu to draw the Earlier Heaven Bagua (Eight Trigrams), then doubled the trigrams to form the sixty-four hexagrams. Later, King Wen of Zhou developed the Later Heaven Bagua and worked out the Later Heaven arrangement of the sixty-four hexagrams, divided into three hundred and eighty-four lines. People then added words to the hexagrams and lines to explain the principles of changing fortune and misfortune. Confucius composed the Ten Wings to expound the meaning of the Yijing (Classic of Changes). In this way, the principles of Earlier Heaven and Later Heaven were explained in detail, and the patterns governing Heaven and Earth’s creation were clearly revealed.

The Yijing is therefore the wellspring of the principles by which the Chinese have sought worthy character and the sage’s Way. It is also the foundation for cultivating the Dao and establishing De. Confucians follow it, and Daoists likewise take it as their standard. The principles in the Yellow Emperor’s Yinfu Jing (Classic of the Hidden Talisman) and Laozi’s Daode Jing (Classic of the Dao and De) accord with those of the Yijing. Yet the words left by the sages are profound and their meanings subtle, so few in later generations have been able to uncover their threads. Even a rare person of outstanding ability and firm purpose may happen to grasp a phrase or two, yet still not know where to begin.

The immortal Master Boyang—usually identified as Wei Boyang, author of the Cantongqi (Token for Joining the Three)—was deeply concerned with teaching others and understood the sages’ wish to guide the world. Drawing on the principles of the Yijing, he expounded the mysteries of the Yinfu Jing and the Daode Jing. He explained them repeatedly through many metaphors, hoping that everyone could cultivate the Great Dao and realize the truth. Most later writings on alchemy took the Cantongqi as their foundation. It is therefore honored as the king of alchemical texts throughout the ages. The term “alchemical text” came into use through it, and the name “Golden Elixir” also originated here.

Human beings are born by receiving the Qi of Heaven and Earth’s Yin-Yang and Five Phases, and the body, too, contains the Qi and De of Yin-Yang and the Five Phases. Qi concerns life; De concerns nature. Human nature and life are therefore constituted by the Qi of Heaven and Earth’s Yin-Yang and Five Phases. There is no other path for cultivating nature and life apart from the principles of Heaven and Earth’s Yin-Yang and Five Phases. The Yijing teaches precisely this Dao of Heaven and Earth, Yin-Yang, and the Five Phases. Once its principles are understood, the Way of the sages can also be understood. That is why the Yijing begins its sequence of hexagrams with Qian and Kun, and the Cantongqi likewise begins its account of cultivation with Qian and Kun. At its root, the Cantongqi’s teaching comes from the Yijing.

The Yijing places Qian and Kun first because Qian signifies strength and vigor and takes Heaven as its image. Heaven belongs to Yang and is supremely firm; this vigorous firmness is called Qian’s strength. Kun signifies yielding and responsiveness and takes Earth as its image. Earth belongs to Yin and is supremely yielding; this yielding responsiveness is called Kun’s softness. Qian and Kun each hold their proper place, while firmness and softness contain one another. The Yang Qi of Qian receives the essence of Heaven and Earth, and the Yin Qi of Kun receives it. The female and male support one another and set creation in motion; the vital essences of Yin and Yang unfold, and the myriad things are born.

The Yijing also places Kan and Li at the center. Kan is Yin on the outside and Yang within, and symbolizes the moon; Li is Yang on the outside and Yin within, and symbolizes the sun. The sun and moon are the essence of Heaven and Earth. They carry out creation on Heaven and Earth’s behalf and are the most important pivots in the movement of Qi. The sun shines and the moon looks down; their radiance spreads everywhere. The seasons turn, and the myriad things grow, ripen, and are stored away—all in their natural course. Behind the way Heaven and Earth’s firmness and softness unfold their vital essences, and the sun and moon travel back and forth to spread their light, an invisible, formless power is at work. Its principles are so wondrous that they cannot be measured or depicted. Thus the sages investigated the waxing and waning of Yin and Yang, consulted and arranged their fundamental patterns, and revealed the mysteries within them.

Qian, Kun, Kan, and Li together return to emptiness. The Yijing takes Qian and Kun as its substance and Kan and Li as its function. The four return to the single Qi of emptiness. As this Qi moves, Yang arises within Yin and Yin within Yang; they alternate and transform, beginning with the hexagrams Tun and Meng and ending with Jiji and Weiji. The other sixty hexagrams unfold in sequence as Yin and Yang alternate, forming the framework through which Heaven and Earth turn. The dragon-horse draws the carriage; its wheels revolve and its axle remains centered, and creation moves through this order. This is the general meaning of the Yijing.

The sage who stands at the head of the myriad things rides six dragons to govern the Dao of Heaven. In movement and in rest, he follows the seasons, taking the patterns of the Yijing as his standard and never daring to stray from them. This is because the Yijing takes harmony between Yin and Yang as its foundation. When those who govern affairs observe the Dao of Heaven and follow its movements, this is called “harmony.” With harmony, the people are compliant, and the royal Way is level and upright. To violate the Dao of Heaven and lose its guiding order is called “disharmony.” With disharmony, those above and below fail to respond to one another; the crooked path becomes perilous, and the state falls into danger and ruin.

Cultivating the Dao is the same. Its foundation is strength and yielding; its practice is firmness and softness held in proper balance. Firmness and softness unite as Qian and Kun are paired; firmness and softness in proper balance are like Kan and Li moving as their light shines down. When firmness and softness are proportionate, vigor and responsiveness become one. The vital essences are full, and the mind and spirit are empty, still, and clear; then the principle of Heaven can appear. Only when the mind is upright can body and mind be cultivated to completion.

The principles for governing the body and governing the state are the same: an upright heart is like an upright ruler. If the ruler is not upright, he cannot respond to the times and govern the world; if the heart is not upright, one cannot preserve the fruits of cultivating the Dao. The Immortal Master begins by laying out the principles of the Yijing and the way of governing a state. He points out that cultivating nature and life accords with the Dao of the Yijing, and that cultivating the body is like governing a state. Without understanding the principles of the Yijing, one cannot cultivate nature and life; without understanding the principles of governing affairs, one cannot cultivate body and mind. Both the Yijing and the governance of state affairs take harmony between Yin and Yang as their foundation. The cultivation of nature and life likewise consists in harmonizing Yin and Yang; there is no other method.

This section focuses on the word “harmony.” With harmony, the road is level and straight; without it, the road becomes perilous and crooked. Those who study the cultivation of the Dao should first understand the principle of harmony.

When a noble person at home speaks words aligned with the good Way, people a thousand li away respond. This means that a ruler governing the people, though dwelling in the depths of the palace and occupying a lofty position, should issue commands in accord with the rhythms of Yin-Yang. He should first prepare the necessary tools and conditions, then wait for the right moment, without going against the month associated with the relevant hexagram.

The Tun hexagram corresponds to the times of Zi and Shen, while the Meng hexagram corresponds to the times of Yin and Xu. Each of the other sixty hexagrams, too, has its corresponding days and times. Here, two hexagrams serve only as examples; the others have not been discussed individually. A ruler should establish policies and penal laws, and govern through benevolence and De. Acting against the season brings danger; acting in accord with it brings good fortune.

Commands should be issued in keeping with the season, with sincere and undivided intent, and with careful discretion. One should wait attentively, examine the dates, and assess the waxing and waning of Yin-Yang. Even the slightest deviation in a small detail can bring regret and calamity. When the winter and summer solstices fall out of order, the movement of the four seasons is disrupted: oppressive heat comes in the depths of winter, and frost and snow fall in midsummer. The lengths of day and night at the spring and autumn equinoxes also depart from their proper measure and no longer agree with the water clock. Floods and droughts then alternate, winds and rains lose their balance, locusts ravage the land, and all manner of anomalies follow one another. Even the heavens give warning, and mountains collapse and the earth splits open.

A filial child’s sincere devotion can move the highest Dao. Words spoken from one’s own mouth can carry their influence to distant lands. Some words and actions bring calamity, others bring blessings; some bring peace, while others provoke war. All four outcomes arise from the human heart. One’s actions and stillness should follow regular patterns and established principles, accord with the seasons, and align with Yuan Qi (the fundamental Qi that moves between Heaven and Earth). Yin and Yang, hardness and softness, should each keep to their proper place without encroaching on one another. The Five Phases, too, must each remain within their bounds; none should be allowed to overflow or diminish at will.

Cultivating the Dao begins with understanding how Yin and Yang work together: wherever there is Yin and Yang, there are also growth and contraction. Each has its proper measure, and the two depend on one another. Apply this principle to governing a state, and the state will be stable; apply it to cultivating yourself, and both body and mind can be brought into balance. The path of cultivating the true is to take the workings of Heaven and Earth as its model. Be careful and thorough in both speech and action, and accord inwardly with the patterns of Heaven and Earth’s creative process. Only then can you align with their De and grasp the times when their workings unfold.

The Commentary on the Appended Statements says: “When a noble person speaks fitting words while alone in a room, people a thousand miles away respond.” A noble person cultivates speech and establishes sincerity in order to deepen virtue; as virtue deepens, speech naturally becomes sincere. Here, “room” refers to the inward place that others do not know, but that one knows for oneself. Even when alone, remain vigilant and self-disciplined, observing carefully and speaking without haste. When you do speak, let your words accord with the good. Sincere and good words win people’s trust; when your words are trustworthy, your actions are more likely to go well, and may even move people and events far away.

Those who govern public affairs observe the Way of Heaven and follow the seasons. When issuing commands, they take account of the seasons of Yin and Yang and dare not defy the Way of Heaven, for speech and action are crucial to a noble person. A single movement of this crucial point can determine honor or disgrace. Those who cultivate the Dao should use firmness and yielding as one would when governing public affairs: issuing commands and taking action in accord with the rhythms of Yin and Yang. If the mind is not upright, the body is difficult to cultivate, and the Way of nature and life is difficult to fulfill.

To issue commands and take action in accord with the seasons of Yin and Yang means using the Yang season to bring things to life, and the Yin season to draw them back. Cultivation of the Dao involves both advance and retreat: use Yang in Yang’s season, and Yin in Yin’s season. Using Yang means advancing; using Yin means retreating. Each has its proper time. In this way, a person’s cultivation corresponds to the workings of Heaven and Earth and follows the rhythms of Yin and Yang.

“To keep one’s instruments in reserve and await the time, without violating the months of the hexagrams” means to hold within oneself the conditions needed for cultivation and wait for the right moment, without going against the patterns of hexagram qi and the months. The year has twelve months. According to the text, the first half of the year belongs to Yang and the second half to Yin. From the Zi month through the Si month, the six Yang hexagrams—Fu, Lin, Tai, Da Zhuang, Guai, and Qian—govern the months; from the Wu month through the Hai month, the six Yin hexagrams—Gou, Dun, Pi, Guan, Bo, and Kun—govern them. Each Yin or Yang hexagram qi corresponds to its season. The sixty hexagrams are distributed across the three hundred and sixty days of the year: one line corresponds to one day, and the thirty days of a month correspond to five hexagrams, or thirty lines.

The sequence of hexagrams is traced from after the winter solstice, beginning with Zhun and Meng and continuing through Ji Ji and Wei Ji. The Zhun hexagram is made up of Kan (Water) and Zhen (Thunder). Thunder stirs within water, symbolizing Yang qi stirring within Yin. The Meng hexagram is made up of Gen (Mountain) and Kan (Water). Water lies beneath the mountain, symbolizing Yang qi held in reserve within Yin. The text also uses the Earthly Branches to indicate the positions associated with Zhun and Meng: Zhun corresponds to Zi and Shen, and Meng to Yin and Xu. Zhun governs the arising of Yang qi; Meng governs its nurturing.

In Neidan cultivation, one likewise keeps the foundations of practice within oneself and waits for the right moment to put them to use. When it is time to advance Yang, restore Yang within Yin, as symbolized by the Yang qi stirring within Yin in the Zhun hexagram. Once Yang qi is sufficient, circulate Yin qi within Yang to withdraw the fire, as symbolized by the Yang qi resting in reserve within Yin in the Meng hexagram. The other hexagram images also correspond to particular days and hexagram qi; the same principle can be applied to them, so there is no need to discuss each one in detail.

Although the Classic of Changes has sixty-four hexagrams, only sixty are discussed here because Qian and Kun are the foundation, while Kan and Li are their function; the remaining sixty hexagrams arise from the transformations of Yin and Yang. Those who cultivate the Dao can grasp the times for advance and retreat, darkness and dawn, by understanding these waxing and waning changes. With Qian and Kun as the substance and Kan and Li as the function, movement and stillness turn in mutual operation, and the sixty hexagrams appear naturally. There is no need to cling to the hexagram images: cultivation can still accord with the patterns they express.

“To establish what is right and set punishments, to act with benevolence and bestow virtue” means that the firm aspect governs punishment, while the yielding aspect governs virtue. When firmness and rectitude are called for, impose discipline in accordance with what is right; when generosity is called for, grant kindness in accordance with benevolence. Punishment removes what is improper, while virtue nurtures abundant upright qi. Only when benevolence and what is right support one another, and punishment and virtue are used together, can the Neidan be refined. To violate this principle throws Yin and Yang out of balance and brings danger; to follow it harmonizes Yin and Yang and leads toward good fortune. Those who cultivate should therefore act according to the solar terms, apply their methods with focus and care, and pay attention to the days when Yang and Yin qi change, observing their waxing and waning without becoming lax.

“Sincerity” is the indispensable foundation throughout the cultivation of the Dao. Even the smallest trace of impropriety means that one is not sincere. A lack of sincerity easily brings regret and misfortune, causing Yin and Yang to lose their proper times and their rhythms to fall into disorder. Even when the Great Dao seems close at hand, one may still fail to cultivate it successfully. If firmness and yielding are properly balanced and the mind is wholly sincere, one can communicate with Heaven and Earth, turning danger into good fortune and hardship into ease.

The text takes Shun as an example. Though his parents treated him harshly, he cried out to Heaven without resentment. His father, Gusou, set fire to a granary and covered a well in an attempt to kill him, yet Shun did not act against him. The text explains Shun’s escape from danger as Heaven and Earth protecting a filial son. If those who cultivate the Dao can bring the human mind into accord with the mind of Heaven, the transformations of Yin and Yang may change in a short time. If Heaven does not go against this, how much less will people and spirits?

Words spoken at home may reach people far away. This is precisely what is meant by “when words are good, people a thousand miles away respond.” Speak good words at home, and people in distant places will respond; speak bad words, and people far away will turn away. Words and actions can therefore bring misfortune or good fortune; they can promote peace and bring order to every part of society, or they can provoke war. Good and bad fortune, misfortune and blessing, often begin with a single movement of the mind. Speech expresses the inner mind: when the mind is upright, words are good and likely to bring blessing and stability; when the mind is not upright, words are bad and may bring disorder and calamity.

Thus, both action and stillness should follow established norms. Keep to the rules, remain balanced and unbiased, and respond to the four seasons and Yin-Yang according to the time and circumstances. Only then will the use of firmness and yielding be appropriate. The Commentary on the Appended Statements says, “Movement and stillness have their constant patterns; firmness and yielding are thereby determined.” This is the principle it describes. When firmness and yielding can be distinguished and used appropriately, one will not be weak when firmness is called for, or forceful when yielding is called for.

When Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth—the Five Phases—each remain in their proper places, and the five primordial forces and five virtues each rest where they belong, they will not be increased or diminished arbitrarily. In this way, the overall movement of qi is harmonious, and the principles of Heaven continue to operate. This section focuses on the idea that “movement and stillness have their constant patterns.” To make movement and stillness accord with their proper measure is to follow the seasons of Yin and Yang when issuing commands and arranging actions. For the Five Phases to remain in their proper places without arbitrarily waxing or waning is likewise to guard the mind when alone and speak with sincerity. Whether following the natural course or responding to change, whether advancing or retreating, one should take the timing and circumstances as one’s guide and use firmness and yielding appropriately.

The Yijing (Zhouyi) circulates everywhere, with Yin and Yang alternately contracting and expanding. Its workings are subtle and hidden, bringing about change within. It encompasses the myriad things and forms the guiding principles of the Great Dao. Through the formless, it brings forth form; once concrete things have served their purpose, they ultimately return to emptiness.

The previous section said that issuing commands must accord with the rhythm of Yin and Yang waxing and waning to bring good fortune. One might think this depends entirely on arranging things through one’s own will, but that is not so. Consider how the hexagrams of the Yijing operate: a single Qi flows up and down, passing through all six positions of a hexagram. Its movements of contraction and expansion, back and forth, are deep and hidden—neither seen nor heard—yet they allow the utmost of nothingness to embrace being, and the utmost of emptiness to embrace substance. Change unfolds without end within, encompassing the myriad things and forming the guiding principles of the Great Dao.

Contraction and expansion, moving back and forth, are the alternating workings of Yin and Yang; this is the Dao. Change hidden within and impossible to fathom is Shen (spirit). The wondrous workings of Shen set the Great Dao in motion, while the movement of the Great Dao gives expression to the wondrous. Thus the formless can bring forth form, and formed things return to emptiness once they have served their purpose. The Yijing has neither thought nor contrivance. It is still and unmoving, yet through resonance it reaches the principles of all things under Heaven. How could the Yijing have a mind intent on arranging things? The principles of cultivating nature and life are also the principles taught by the Yijing. The Yijing is without mind, and the practice of the Dao should likewise be without mind. To act without a contriving mind is to respond to the right moment. To act in accord with the times means to discern the principles of a situation and act accordingly. Action arises from the Way of Heaven, not from personal desire. Why, then, would one need to act with deliberate intention?

Therefore, when one investigates the changes in Yin and Yang as they wax and wane, Kan and Li—representing water and fire, and often corresponding to the Moon and Sun—recede from view. One should not speak by making things up, nor argue without a basis. One must cite evidence and test results, using them to assess subtle and hard-to-fathom changes. From things of the same kind, one may draw inferences and classify names and terms, then use fundamental principles as proof.

Within Kan is Wu, symbolizing the Moon’s essence; within Li is Ji, symbolizing the Sun’s radiance. The Sun and Moon together form the word “Yi,” and firmness and yielding complement one another. Earth holds the central place among the four seasons, linking things from beginning to end. The four colors—blue-green, red, white, and black—each occupy a direction, yet all receive the influence of the Earth of Wu and Ji in the central palace.

The previous section explained that “being” functions through “nonbeing.” Yet the effects of “nonbeing” are difficult to observe directly. The sages therefore used such phenomena as the waxing and waning of Yang Qi and the meeting of Kan and Li to explain principles that have no visible form. They used visible things as metaphors for invisible principles. This was not arbitrary invention: they inferred the wondrous workings of Yin-Yang from observable changes, formed characters according to relationships among things of the same kind, and used the principles governing things as evidence, making the ideas easier to understand.

For example, the Kan trigram corresponds to Wu and symbolizes the essence within the moon; the Li trigram corresponds to Ji and symbolizes sunlight. Yin contains Yang, and Yang contains Yin. When the sun and moon come together, they form the character “Yi,” which serves as a metaphor for the pairing of hardness and softness. This way of explaining things through characters follows the principle that things of the same kind correspond and gather together.

Earth governs the four seasons and connects Metal, Wood, Water, and Fire, bringing them together as one Qi. This Qi circulates in an endless cycle. Green Wood, red Fire, white Metal, and black Water each occupy a direction, yet all depend on central Earth to harmonize and unite them. This harmonizing action is expressed through Wu and Ji. When Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth merge into one, this is called “gathering the five phases into one.” This explanation draws on the principles that govern the movement of the Five Phases.

By tracing correspondences among things and investigating their underlying principles, we can use “being” to understand “nonbeing,” and use vessels to understand “emptiness.”

At the winter solstice, Yin reaches its greatest extent and Yang begins to emerge. Yang Qi gradually spreads throughout Heaven and Earth. It moves back and forth without obstruction, and its subtle yet vigorous power begins to appear. In the Zi month, which contains the winter solstice, Yang Qi first arises, and signs of growth among the myriad things gradually become visible. Warmth spreads, and people’s lives slowly return to normal.

This is like tending branches beside a furnace and opening a path for sunlight. The light grows stronger, and the days grow longer. In the Chou month, Yin and Yang Qi work together, harmonizing their ascent and descent. Receiving Yang Qi from above, they form the Tai hexagram, which symbolizes the harmonious union of Heaven and Earth. Both firm and yielding forces flourish. Yin and Yang meet; Yin gradually recedes and Yang grows. Qi gathers in the Yin month and continues its course in accordance with the seasons.

Yang Qi then passes through the stage symbolized by the Dazhuang hexagram, spreading side by side in the Mao month. The elm’s pods fall and return to the roots. Punishment and De—the forces symbolizing destruction and nourishment—balance one another, and the lengths of day and night begin to equalize. The Guai hexagram symbolizes Yin’s retreat and Yang’s advance. Yang Qi washes the grime from feathers and shakes off accumulated dust. The firm, bright power symbolized by the Qian hexagram grows more vigorous and spreads widely in all directions.

By the Si month, Yang Qi reaches its peak, and Yin and Yang begin to meet. Yin first appears, as symbolized by the Gou hexagram, much like the earliest sign of frost before the first frost; it is also like a cold spring still present at the bottom of a well. The Wu month corresponds to the ancient pitch standard Ruibin. At this time, Yang Qi lies hidden within Yin, which takes the leading role. Yang withdraws, gathers its essence, preserves its De, and waits for the right moment, dwelling quietly in a secluded place.

Yin becomes blocked, and the sprouts of grasses and trees cannot grow. Yin extends while Yang contracts, and Yang’s position gradually fades from view. By observing the waxing and waning of Yin and Yang, one can see the conditions of mid-autumn: tiny, tender signs of life are nurtured, while withered old plants also regain their vitality. Tender shoots of shepherd’s purse and wheat grow through the influence of this Qi. But as Yin grows stronger, it also causes the forms of the myriad things to decline and diminish. Once Yang Qi is exhausted, the wondrous impulse of life disappears with it. When its course reaches its end, it turns back and returns to the origin of Kun, which symbolizes Yin’s yielding nature and its role as the foundation that bears all things.

The passage above describes the waxing and waning of Yin and Yang, using Kan and Li—the hexagrams that symbolize water and fire, and Yin and Yang—to explain it. This section and the next further clarify the waxing and waning of Yin and Yang, using seasonal changes as evidence. How can their waxing and waning be observed? For example, on the morning of the winter solstice, the sun turns back from the south, Yang Qi begins to emerge anew, and it returns to the origin of Kun.

This section uses the waxing and waning of Yin and Yang over the course of a year to explain how Yang Qi gradually grows during cultivation, reaches its height, and then gathers and returns to concealment. It pairs the Twelve Hexagrams of waxing and waning, which represent the monthly growth and decline of Yin and Yang, with the months, and compares the changing seasons to the advances, retreats, and nourishment involved in cultivating the Dao.

After the winter solstice, the sun gradually moves northward, and the first Yang is born beneath the earth, corresponding to the Hexagram of Return (Fu). At this point Yang Qi has only just begun to sprout and remains very weak. The ancients used a gnomon to measure the sun’s shadow. Seeing the shadow grow longer, they judged that Yang Qi had begun to grow. The Yellow Bell pitch, the first of the ancient twelve pitches, also corresponds to the Zi month, the eleventh month. As a metaphor for cultivation, the firm and vigorous Qi has only just stirred. One should protect and nourish this spark of life, making it the foundation for returning to the origin and restoring the original state, and not allow it to scatter easily.

From the winter solstice to Minor Cold, the second Yang is born, corresponding to the Hexagram of Approach (Lin). The sun’s shadow continues to lengthen, and Yang Qi gradually unfolds. Practitioners should also work within the furnace and cauldron, metaphors in Neidan for the place where body and mind are cultivated. They should regulate body and mind, restrain Yin Qi and support Yang Qi, allowing their practice to advance step by step and their effort to continue without interruption.

From Minor Cold to the Beginning of Spring, the third Yang is born, corresponding to the Hexagram of Peace (Tai). The Qi of Heaven and Earth rises and descends, meeting and joining; Yin and Yang harmonize, and all things receive warmth and nourishment. As a metaphor for cultivation, firm and vigorous Qi reaches a centered and proper position, restless, miscellaneous Qi is brought under control, and Yin and Yang come into balance, leaving one’s nature and temperament calm: firm without impatience, gentle without weakness.

From the Beginning of Spring to the spring equinox, the fourth Yang is born, corresponding to the Hexagram of Great Strength (Dazhuang). Yang Qi grows stronger, but one must still guard the root and avoid forcing progress. Practitioners should gently nourish Yang Qi and let it return to its root, waiting for Yin Qi to recede and Yang Qi to grow naturally. The text’s phrase “do not forget and do not help” means that one must neither neglect this nourishment nor deliberately drive it forward.

From the spring equinox to Pure Brightness, the fifth Yang is born, corresponding to the Hexagram of Resoluteness (Guai). Yang Qi is vigorous, while Yin Qi is weak. At this stage practitioners should wash away long-standing habits and sweep the dust from the heart, using the Dao-heart to restrain the human heart so that no outside, harmful, or miscellaneous Qi remains within.

From Pure Brightness to the Beginning of Summer, the sixth Yang is born, corresponding to the Hexagram of the Creative (Qian). Yang Qi fills Heaven and Earth, and all things flourish. This is a metaphor for the practitioner’s firm, Yang nature reaching a state of purity and revealing its original appearance as Qian Yuan, the pure Yang life force represented by the Creative Hexagram. Innate knowing and ability merge completely with the principle of Heaven, without any admixture of selfish desire, like the red sun in the sky as Yin and harmful influences disperse. This is the stage of “advancing the Yang Fire,” a Neidan term for cultivating and advancing Yang Qi.

Yang Qi reaches its height in the Si month, the fourth month; at its peak, it begins to turn toward the birth of Yin. From the Beginning of Summer to the summer solstice, the first Yin is born, corresponding to the Hexagram of Encounter (Gou). Though there is not yet any frost, Yin Qi has already begun to stir, like frost soon to come beneath one’s feet. The fifth month is the Wu month, associated with the Rui Bin pitch, one of the twelve pitches. Yin Qi lies hidden beneath the earth as Yang Qi begins to yield. As a metaphor for cultivation, although the practitioner’s Yang Qi is vigorous, it must be guarded and tempered so that it becomes stable. The text calls this kind of gathering and preservation “moving the Yin Talisman”: when Yang Qi is abundant, Yin nourishes it so that it does not become excessive.

The “true Yin” spoken of here is the inner Yin Qi that arises after Yang Qi gathers and withdraws into concealment; it is not miscellaneous Qi from outside. When true Yin arises, false, floating Yin dissipates. If Yang Qi refuses to withdraw into concealment, true Yin cannot appear; instead, miscellaneous Qi may enter, causing the fruits of cultivation to be gained and then lost. One must therefore distinguish true from false when working with Yin Qi: following true Yin can nourish Yang, while yielding to false Yin can damage it. The text uses the warning associated with the Hexagram of Encounter to remind practitioners to treat Yin Qi with care.

From the summer solstice to Minor Heat, Yang Qi begins to withdraw into concealment as Yin Qi gradually grows, corresponding to the Hexagram of Retreat (Dun). Practitioners should gather their spirit, hold to De, and await the right moment; they should conceal their strengths and keep a low profile, not allowing miscellaneous Qi to exploit an opening and harm them.

From Minor Heat to the Beginning of Autumn, the third Yin is born, corresponding to the Hexagram of Obstruction (Pi). The Qi of Heaven and Earth becomes intermingled and blocked, making it difficult for things to grow. As a metaphor for cultivation, Yang’s firmness and vigor withdraw to a guarded position as Yin’s softness advances. One should use softness to nourish firmness, so that inner vitality does not cease because of obstruction in the outside world.

From the Beginning of Autumn to the autumn equinox, the fourth Yin is born, corresponding to the Hexagram of Contemplation (Guan). All things gradually draw inward, yet a little life force can still sprout. As a metaphor for cultivation, practitioners use softness to nourish firmness, keeping vitality concealed within. Even when the outward appearance is dim, there is still light within.

From the autumn equinox to Cold Dew, the fifth Yin is born, corresponding to the Hexagram of Stripping Away (Bo). Yang Qi gradually fades, and all things wither. As a metaphor for cultivation, practitioners should strip away attachment to the illusory, acquired form and eliminate the tangible, rigid, and agitated qualities of Qi. When the Qi of acquired transformation is exhausted and discriminating consciousness no longer functions, one can pass from “the loss of awareness” into a wondrous state, which is what the text calls “being spirit without being spirit.”

From White Dew to the Beginning of Winter, all six Yin lines are complete, corresponding to the Hexagram of the Receptive (Kun); the tenth month is the month of pure Yin. As a metaphor for cultivation, practitioners gather away their firm Qi and nourish it until they reach a state in which even emptiness is empty, returning to a condition of no sound or smell and utmost stillness. After stillness reaches its limit, movement begins again, bringing another wondrous function. The text concludes by noting that a diagram of the six Yin and six Yang lines is included below for reference.

At the turn from the dark of the moon to the new moon, the Qi of Yin and Yang moves through the center according to the pattern of the tally. Heaven and Earth are in a state of undivided chaos, and the two Qi of Yin and Yang work together. They nourish and moisten the myriad things, allowing the Qi of generation and transformation to flow without cease. The wondrous changes between Heaven and Earth cannot be measured. Through this, the practitioner settles body and mind, concealing their traces and remaining hidden.

The movement begins in the northeast, corresponding to the ancient lunar mansions Ji and Dou. The Qi mechanism then turns to the right, like the moon’s disk giving forth new shoots. Hidden signs gradually emerge, radiating refined light. Above the mansions Mao and Bi, the Qi mechanism stirs and reveals its signs. Yang Qi begins to move forth, like the “Submerged Dragon” in the first nine line of the Book of Changes.

Three is the number that establishes Yang; eight is the number through which Yin circulates. On the third day of the month, the moon’s form is like the Zhen trigram; on the eighth, it is like the Dui trigram. At the second nine line, Yang Qi is like the “Dragon Appearing in the Field,” calm and bright. The qualities of three and five are brought to completion, and the form of the Qian trigram takes shape. The third nine line says, “The noble person is active and alert all day; in the evening, still cautious.” This indicates that the Qi mechanism is gradually diminishing, and the tally’s correspondence changes along with it. Waxing and waning gradually alternate, until at last the movement returns to its beginning.

The Xun trigram then carries the movement onward, and the practitioner must hold fast at the point where the Qi mechanism passes between phases. At the fourth nine line, the Qi mechanism seems poised to leap, and there is danger in both advance and retreat. The Gen trigram governs stopping, reminding us to know when to advance and when to retreat, and not to miss the right moment. On the twenty-third day, the moon is at the juncture between its waxing and waning quarters, and one must wait with care. The fifth nine line is like a Flying Dragon ascending to Heaven, occupying the heavenly position and reaching its fullness. The fifth six line is then carried forward by the Kun trigram, bringing the movement to a close while connecting its beginning and end. It nurtures many generations of descendants, serving from age to age as the mother of the myriad things. At the top nine line, Yang Qi reaches its extreme; the qualities of Yin and Yang contend in the wilderness. The transformations symbolized by “use the nine” also form part of the movement’s pattern.

When the number of Yang reaches its limit, a new beginning follows. Following the course of things and accord with their nature, Yin and Yang transform and work together. Like the revolving stars of the Northern Dipper, they cycle without end, rising and descending, moving through the six lines. Their changes are subtle and hard to discern. Thus Yin and Yang have no fixed position: this is the foundation of the Book of Changes.

When the number of Yang reaches its limit, a new beginning follows. In accord with the course of things and their nature, Yin and Yang transform and work together. Like the revolving Xuanji—a device used in antiquity to observe the heavens, and also a reference to the movement of celestial bodies—they turn in cycles, rising and descending, moving through the six lines, beyond direct sight. Thus they have no fixed position: this is the foundation of the Book of Changes.

The previous section used the twelve months of the year to explain the pattern of Yin-Yang advance and retreat. This section uses the thirty days of a month to explain the same pattern. In both cases, the movement of the sun and moon serves to show how to follow the rhythms of Yin and Yang.

The year has twelve months, and the sun and moon meet once each month. Between the dark of the moon and the new moon, as one month gives way to the next, the sun and moon seem to meet at the Middle Course, as if joined by a tally. The “Middle Course” refers to the ecliptic, the sun’s path. The paths of the sun and moon cross just as the old month ends and the new one begins. At that time, Yin and Yang Qi mingle; Heaven and Earth remain undivided in primordial chaos, and Yin and Yang unite like female and male in mutual accord. Yang envelops Yin, and Yin envelops Yang; harmonious Qi gathers, fluids moisten, Yang acts and Yin transforms, and the flow of Qi moves freely. Yet the workings of this union, transformation, and circulation of Yin and Yang are without form or trace. They cannot be seen or known; even the spirits of Heaven and Earth can scarcely fathom them, much less human beings.

This serves as a metaphor for cultivating the Dao. When a cultivator reaches the utmost emptiness and stillness, settling body and mind and concealing themselves from view, they are less vulnerable to external harm and less subject to the changes of transformation. Heaven and Earth can command things that have form, Qi, or awareness, but cannot command a state without form, Qi, or awareness.

At first, the moon lies near the lunar mansions Ji and Dou in the northeast. Its light has vanished, and it shows the image of pure Yin. The Yi’s phrase “in the northeast, losing companions” refers to this stage. The moon then moves to the right and begins to release a faint light. Yang starts to arise within Yin; the hidden lunar form appears, and its refined light gradually spreads. When it reaches the Kun position in the southwest, where the lunar mansions Bi and Mao lie, Zhen is conceived within Kun. The moon shows a thin, moth-brow crescent. This is called “Zhen emerging as a faint glimmer”: an auspicious sign that Yang Qi is beginning to arise. It is also what the Yi means by “in the southwest, gaining companions.”

At this point, faint Yang Qi has just begun to sprout, corresponding to the first nine of the Qian hexagram, “Hidden dragon.” This is like a cultivator who, having reached the utmost stillness, begins to stir: a bright light arises within emptiness and stillness, and a spark of true spirit appears out of darkness. This spark of true spirit is easy to lose and hard to recover. Once it appears, it should at once be gathered within and made the basis for returning to the root and restoring the Origin. It must be carefully nurtured and never abandoned, even for a moment.

On the third day, the moon begins to establish its light; on the eighth, Yang Qi begins to flow freely. “Flow freely” means that Yin Qi starts to connect with Yang Qi and reach a state of harmony. The third day corresponds to the activation of the Zhen trigram, and the eighth to the movement of the Dui trigram. The moonlight now takes the form of Dui: Yang Qi has passed the halfway point within Yin, and the light runs straight as a taut cord, shaped like a bowstring. This is called the “upper bow.” In the Qian hexagram, it corresponds to the second nine, “Dragon appearing in the field.” It is like a cultivator whose firm, Yang energy has reached its balanced and centered position. The heart and Qi are calm and clear, while Yin Qi is compliant and harmonious rather than hidden away, so external disturbances are less likely to intrude.

On the fifteenth day, the accomplishments of three and five are complete. The moon is full, the three Yang lines are in place, and the Qian form is established. This corresponds to the third nine of the Qian hexagram, “All day long, the noble one is vigilant.” It is like a cultivator whose spirit is full and whose firm Qi is flourishing: three and five have united, and the Golden Elixir has begun to take shape. Yet when Yang Qi rises to its utmost, it begins to diminish from below. Prosperity turns to decline, and in the end it must return to its starting point. Thus “vigilant all day long” is a reminder to guard against danger and remain cautious.

On the eighteenth day, Yin Qi quietly begins to arise, the moon’s light starts to wane, and the Xun trigram takes up the movement as Yang light gradually recedes. It is like a cultivator whose firm Qi has reached its height and must now be tempered with softness. Through careful vigilance, they preserve, protect, and nurture their cultivation so as to maintain their firm Qi. This corresponds to the fourth nine of the Qian hexagram, “Perhaps leaping.” “Perhaps” suggests hesitation: there may be danger between advancing and retreating, so the utmost caution is required.

On the twenty-third day, Yin Qi has passed the halfway point within Yang, forming the image of Gen. The moonlight again runs straight as a taut cord, shaped like a bowstring. This is called the “lower bow.” Gen governs advancement that must come to a stop. It is like a cultivator whose firm, Yang energy has retreated to a balanced and centered position, where firmness and softness are joined without leaning to either side. This is “the Center.” At this point one should “bathe,” that is, pause the advance and retreat and nourish body and mind. The moment must not be missed, but one must not retreat too far. This corresponds to the fifth nine of the Qian hexagram, “Flying dragon in the sky.” The flying dragon symbolizes firm strength that is centered and correct, refined and free of admixture: firm without agitation, soft without weakness, able to adapt to the moment while holding steadfastly to the Center.

Just as the moon waxes and wanes within due measure, cultivation must keep Metal and Water in balance. In Neidan, these terms refer to the two kinds of Yin-Yang refined Qi. The growing light of Yang must not become excessive, and its decline must not sink into darkness. At this stage, innate knowing and innate ability become manifest, the Dao-heart remains present, the human heart is settled, and the principle of Heaven flows through as a whole, bringing one to the highest good. The original countenance, in which firmness and softness are one, appears again. The saying “My destiny lies with me, not with Heaven” means that the cultivator has joined with the Dao of Heaven: Heaven is me, and I am Heaven. To accompany Heaven—what joy could be greater?

On the thirtieth day, the six and five Yin lines of Kun receive the movement. Yang light is completely gathered away, and the image of pure Kun appears. The cycle of Yang Qi begins with Kun and ends with Kun. Kun governs Yang Qi from beginning to end and can therefore nurture all Yang. When Yin reaches its utmost, it gives birth to Yang once more, like the common mother of all things, so that generation and transformation continue without end.

This corresponds to the upper nine of the Qian hexagram, “Arrogant dragon.” “Arrogant” means that Yang Qi has reached its limit. As Yang light recedes into pure Kun, it receives Kun’s warm nourishment and Qi fills the interior. At the utmost stillness, movement arises again; Yin and Yang gather together, giving rise to the image of “battling in the wilds.” The expressions “arrogant dragon” and “battling in the wilds” are explained somewhat differently here from the upper nine and upper six of the Qian and Kun hexagrams in the Book of Changes. The Book of Changes focuses on Yang Qi becoming excessive in its account of the “arrogant dragon,” and on Yin Qi being unyielding in its account of “battling in the wilds.” The Can Tong Zhi Zhi interprets the “arrogant dragon” as Yang Qi reaching a state of purity, and “battling in the wilds” as Yin and Yang uniting and gathering. The key lies in the words “warring virtue”: Yang virtue is needed, but Yin virtue must not be lacking. Yin nurtures Yang; when Yang Qi reaches its limit, it returns to its root and sprouts anew from within Yin.

That is why the text immediately goes on to say, “Use the nine, moving lightly: this is the rule of the Dao.” “Moving lightly” means flying up and down, moving back and forth through change. The Qian hexagram says, “Using the nine: a host of dragons appears, none as leader. Good fortune.” If cultivators can follow the rule of the moon’s waxing and waning—advancing with firmness when it is time for firmness, using softness when it is time for softness, and changing with the moment while keeping to a principle—they can advance and retreat, rise and descend, and act in accord with the time. The traces of firmness gradually disappear: one seems firm without clinging to firmness, and softness is contained within firmness, until all returns to emptiness and stillness. When firm Qi has been nurtured to the point of emptiness and stillness, the Yang count is exhausted and returns to the Origin of Kun. When Yin reaches its limit, Yang arises again. The cycle repeats; feeling and nature come into accord, and the Great Medicine—the refined Qi gained through cultivation in Neidan—grows from faint to full, revolving like the celestial pivot, ascending and descending through the positions of the six Yin and six Yang lines.

This is an extraordinarily subtle heavenly mechanism. In the prenatal state, the Dao of Heaven cannot go against it; in the postnatal state, it follows the seasons and their movements. Ordinary people cannot observe or understand it. The Yin and Yang of the Yi have no fixed positions. The six Yin and six Yang represented by Qian and Kun are the foundation of the Yi; the other sixty-two hexagrams arise as Yin and Yang in Qian and Kun change with the moment. To understand the patterns of change in the Yin and Yang of Qian and Kun is to grasp the foundation of the Yi. If one applies the principles of nine and six without missing the proper moment, knowing when to advance and when to retreat, all sixty-two hexagrams can be put to use. This accords both with the seasonal course of the sun as it moves north and south through the year and with the Qi dynamics of the moon’s waxing and waning through the month. There is no need to be bound by words or hexagram images: once the meaning of the images is understood, the words can be forgotten; once the underlying meaning is grasped, the images can be forgotten. A diagram of the moon’s waxing and waning is appended below for reference.

It always follows the laws by which the earth moves, receives the seasons from Heaven, and brings the changes of that movement into view. Its principles are deep and distant, subtle and hard to fathom; things that seem cut off from one another are, in fact, interconnected. All things grow and reproduce in season, rooted in the changes of Yin-Yang. These changes are vast and elusive, and their point of origin is difficult to discern.

If the course of movement is first lost, it will later become the force that leads the way. What is level will not remain level forever; in time it turns to a slope. This is the natural law of the Dao. All things transform and alternate, waxing and waning in accordance with one another. The cycle ends at the Kun hexagram, which signifies Yin energy reaching its height, then begins anew with the Fu hexagram, which signifies Yang energy starting to return—like a ring whose ends meet. If rulers can follow and master this pattern, they can maintain stability for a long time.

The two sections above describe the principles governing the beginning of a year and a month. If the course of movement is first lost, it will later become the force that leads the way. What is level will not remain level forever; in time it turns to a slope. This is the natural law of the Dao. All things transform and alternate, waxing and waning in accordance with one another. The cycle ends at the Kun hexagram, then begins anew with the Fu hexagram, like a ring whose ends meet. If rulers can follow and master this pattern, they can maintain stability for a long time.

The previous two sections explained in detail how Yin and Yang interact, using the cycle of a year and the phases of a month as examples. The path of cultivating the Dao is also the path of bringing Yin and Yang into harmony: Yang governs firmness and vigor, while Yin governs softness and yielding. Advancing Yang means increasing the energy of firmness and vigor; circulating Yin means making use of the energy of softness and yielding. Firmness and vigor must reach the mean and proper balance to be truly strong without becoming one-sided. Softness and yielding must also reach the mean and proper balance to be truly yielding without becoming weak. Firmness that is balanced does not become impatient; softness that is balanced does not become timid. When softness is contained within firmness, and firmness within softness, one’s nature becomes fully integrated and clear, neither biased nor excessive. This is the “mean,” and it is also the foundation on which the Golden Elixir (the state attained through Neidan cultivation) condenses.

To cultivate the Golden Elixir, one must take Heaven and Earth as the furnace and cauldron, the figurative vessels used in alchemy. Firmness and vigor should be like Heaven, beyond the power of anything to harm; softness and yielding should be like Earth, able to shape and bear all things. Constantly following the ways of the land means modeling Earth’s softness and yielding: Earth bears all things and enables them to grow. Following the Dao of Heaven means modeling Heaven’s firmness and vigor: Heaven initiates all things, and nothing can make it submit. By modeling Earth, one’s softness and yielding accord with Earth; by modeling Heaven, one’s firmness and vigor accord with Heaven. With the firmness of Heaven and the softness of Earth, one can act with clarity and simplicity. This is also innate knowledge and innate ability—the human capacity to discern and to act—which accords with the all-encompassing principle of Heaven and reaches the highest good, free of evil.

Look at Heaven above and Earth below. The Qi of Heaven and Earth is exceedingly subtle, and their forms are far apart, so they seem cut off from each other. Yet their Qi connects and communicates in secret. The Qi of Heaven and Earth moves according to definite measures, nourishing living things of every kind and causing all things to grow in season. The place where things come into being is the root of Yin and Yang. This root is deep and remote, difficult to approach directly and difficult to fathom. But by observing how Earth brings forth all things, we can gain some sense of it, even though we cannot see where it begins.

The judgment of the Kun hexagram in the Book of Changes says, “At first, one loses the way; later, one finds a guiding lord.” The Commentary on the Judgment explains: “At first, one loses the Way; later, by yielding, one finds what is constant.” Earth belongs to Yin and has no Yang Qi of its own; it must receive Yang Qi from Heaven for life to appear. When Heaven’s Yang Qi arrives, Earth has Yang; when Heaven’s Yang Qi departs, Earth turns Yin. When the Qi of Heaven descends and the Qi of Earth rises, Yin is in command and Yang withdraws into hiding. All things are then blocked and unable to develop, as though Earth had no Yang Qi, had lost its constant way, and had no guiding lord. When the Qi of Heaven rises and the Qi of Earth descends, Yang is in command and Yin yields. All things break through the soil, grow, and flourish, as though Earth had received Yang Qi, followed what is constant, and found a guiding lord.

When Yin reaches its utmost, it turns into Yang, and Yang Qi begins to take charge. With Yang in command, all things open and flow freely, like level ground. When Yang reaches its utmost, it turns into Yin, and Yin Qi begins to take charge. With Yin in command, all things become blocked, like sloping ground. The movement of Heaven and Earth follows a pattern of coming and going, waxing and waning: Yang Qi withdraws and Yin Qi arrives; Yin Qi withdraws and Yang Qi arrives. There is never a time of Yang alone without Yin, nor a state that remains level forever without turning rugged. The smoothness and obstacles of Yin and Yang are both natural patterns; Heaven and Earth themselves have no will. Thus Yin and Yang wax and wane in turn: Yang at its utmost becomes Yin, and Yin at its utmost becomes Yang. Decline and growth bring each other about and repeat in a cycle, like links in a chain. These principles show that Heaven and Earth embody firmness and vigor in Yang, and softness and yielding in Yin, while Yin and Yang Qi are always flowing and changing.

If an emperor governing the realm can respond to the Mandate of Heaven and model Heaven and Earth, using firmness and softness together, he can accord with the De of Heaven and Earth, the brightness of the sun and moon, the order of the four seasons, and the auspicious and inauspicious signs shown by spirits. If one acts before the proper time, Heaven does not oppose the action; if one acts in response to the proper time, one can likewise follow Heaven’s timing. Governing the realm by these principles brings peace; cultivating the Dao by them brings success. They enable one to fulfill oneself inwardly and help others fulfill themselves outwardly. The scripture also says that those who cultivate in this way can endure for a thousand years and enjoy limitless life, achieving this more easily than ordinary people. Fuxi and Shennong are said to have practiced this Dao and lived for more than ten thousand years; Huang Bu practiced it, rode a dragon, and ascended to Heaven. These are examples offered as proof of the Dao.

The foundation of governing all affairs lies in eliminating old abuses and renewing institutions. The heart of the Dao (the Way) is subtle and precise: it can open up and bring forth the treasures within. It is the pivot that grasps the root and directs change. Yin and Yang (Yin-Yang) lines move within the trigrams, while good and ill fortune appear outwardly. The Five Latitudes—the five planets that circle the sun—move in interwoven or orderly courses, responding to the changing seasons. If the Four Directions and Seven Lodges, the arrangement of the constellations, fall into disorder, the stars shift from their proper places and the order of above and below is overturned.

Wenchang, a stellar office symbolizing oversight and record keeping, supervises the records and holds the assisting ministers accountable; officials at every level each administer their own duties. By examining how affairs begin and end, one can discern signs of survival or ruin: sometimes a ruler grows arrogant, indulgent, and complacent, straying from the proper path; sometimes ministers act treacherously and flatteringly, failing to follow the norms. Irregular changes in the moon’s phases—its quarter, fullness, waxing, and waning—foretell calamity. Zhifa, a stellar office symbolizing the correction of faults, is responsible for detecting transgressions, pursuing accountability, and bringing them to the ruler’s attention. The North Star symbolizes remaining centered and upright, governing calmly while allowing subordinates to fulfill their respective duties. If the ruler issues decrees from the Hall of Light, the state will not suffer calamities arising from a departure from the Way.

The preceding section drew on the principles of the Book of Changes to discuss the Way of Heaven, the Way of the ruler, and the Way of the sage in turn. This section focuses on “governing affairs,” using it to explain the practice of “returning” the Qi (vital energy) acquired after birth to its primordial state. Returning means going back to the primordial within the postnatal condition. Since it is a deliberate practice, it is called “the foremost principle of governing.”

“Renewing the old and transforming the worn” means clearing away what is old and bringing in what is new. To attain something new, one must first reform old habits. Here, “the old” refers to impurities accumulated over a long time. Once these old stains are removed, the human mind becomes quiet. A “cauldron” is a vessel for refining substances. As the contents of the cauldron are refined and renewed, the Dao-mind comes forth.

“Enclosing and containing what is subtle and hidden” means being strict and vigilant with oneself: keeping the precepts where no one can see, maintaining reverence where no one can hear, and working at the most hidden level until the human mind becomes yielding. “Opening, unfolding, and spreading the treasure” means adjusting in response to change and putting the principles into practice. It means applying the mind and spirit in every action, so that the Dao-mind reveals its firm and vigorous aspect. When the human mind is yielding and the Dao-mind firm, one can clear away the old and bring in the new, then renew what has become old again. The mind of Heaven then appears naturally, bringing one to a state of perfect goodness without evil. The key to renewing the old and transforming the worn always lies in the Dao-mind.

In “the pivot of the essential Way,” the “pivot” refers to the seventh star of the Northern Dipper, also called the Marker Star, the Star of the Army-Breaker, or the Celestial Dipper. The Celestial Dipper governs the movement of creation and is regarded as the Northern Pole’s enforcer, charged with traversing the heavens and commanding the stars. When it moves correctly, the five planetary bodies each remain in their proper places, the twenty-eight lunar mansions follow their appointed courses, and the seasons proceed without disorder; this is auspicious. If its movement deviates even slightly, the stars become irregular and displaced; this is inauspicious. The scripture holds that these changes in the heavens respond to the good and evil of human conduct.

The Star of Literary Brilliance is made up of six stars: the Upper General, the Second General, the Noble Minister, the Controller of Emoluments, the Controller of Destinies, and the Controller of Punishments. Together they are called Heaven’s “Six Offices.” They record the Way of Heaven, govern good fortune and misfortune, and oversee the good and evil of human advisers, officials, and departments. When people act well, auspicious signs appear in the heavens; when they do evil, inauspicious signs appear. From the beginnings of these signs, one can infer the fortunes and misfortunes of people, and the signs of a state’s survival or collapse.

If a ruler is arrogant and complacent, violating the Way of governance, or if ministers are devious and fawning, acting outside the rules, government affairs will go awry and anomalies will appear in the heavens as ill omens. The scripture lays the blame on enforcers who fail to fulfill their duties: this brings reproach and also harms the ruler. When the pivot moves constantly without straying from its proper course, the Northern Pole remains securely in its place, surrounded by the stars. The stars follow their courses through the four seasons, and all things can grow. When enforcers carefully uphold the law, the ruler can govern with integrity, issuing orders from the Bright Hall and allowing the Way of the ruler to flourish.

For those who cultivate the Dao, the Dao-mind’s true feeling has a firm and vigorous Qi, like the celestial pivot and like the state’s enforcers. The Dao-mind’s true knowing perceives and illuminates, like the Star of Literary Brilliance recording good and evil. The Dao-mind’s central ruler presides with impartiality, like the Northern Pole holding its place and like a sovereign directing affairs. When true feeling is undimmed, the Five Primordial Forces and Five Virtues generate one another and merge into a single Qi, just as the pivot points without deviation and the five planets move in season. When deluded feelings stir, the Five Substances and Five Thieves overcome one another, each following its own nature, just as a misdirected pivot throws the stars into disorder. True knowing should observe the deluded activity of the six sense faculties, the seven emotions, the six desires, and the Five Substances and Five Thieves, as the Star of Literary Brilliance oversees the good and evil assigned to each. The heart’s ruler presides at the center, like the Northern Pole holding to what is right and the sovereign governing from the Bright Hall.

If cultivators can rouse the Dao-mind and subdue the human mind, true feeling will not grow dim and true knowing will remain constant. Yin Qi will gradually dissolve and Yang Qi gradually become pure. Then, by clearing away the old and bringing in the new, nature will settle and life will coalesce, taking one from deliberate practice into Wuwei (non-action). In this way, every part of the body can be properly regulated and all manner of thoughts can subside. There will naturally be no danger of arrogance that violates the Way, crookedness that departs from the proper measure, or calamity.

The principles of cultivating the real are also a way of “governing.” Understand the good and bad outcomes of governing affairs, and you can also understand the good and bad outcomes of cultivating the real. The Upper Chapter of The Immortal’s Writings begins by comparing the governance of affairs to the cultivation of the real; this is indeed subtle and profound.

To cultivate one’s nature, lengthen life, and delay the end of one’s allotted years, one should carefully consider both the beginning and the later stages of cultivation, and first attend to its foundation. The bodily form a person receives originally comes from the formless. Original Jing, the subtle substance of life, circulates widely and, relying on Qi, the energy that supports life’s activity, takes root and begins to generate. Yin-Yang is the principle governing life’s movement and the foundation where the hun and po souls reside. The yang spirit is called the sun hun, and the yin spirit the moon po; hun and po depend on one another and each serves as the other’s dwelling.

Nature governs the inner, like a boundary; desires govern the outer, like a wall built around a city. When the inner and outer boundaries are secure, body and mind can be settled. At this point, emotion harmonizes with the Yin-Yang of Heaven and Earth. Qian, which symbolizes yang, moves with strength; Qi spreads in its wake, and Jing flows. Kun, which symbolizes yin, is still and settled, becoming the dwelling place of the Great Dao. After firm yang has acted, it withdraws and stores itself; yielding yin transforms, nurtures, and nourishes. The “nine returns and seven reversals” and “eight returning and six abiding” use numbers to describe the back-and-forth changes of Yin-Yang, Jing, and Qi. Men belong to white, women to red; Metal and Fire restrain one another. Water thereby settles Fire—this is the beginning of the Five Phases’ cycles of generation and transformation.

The highest good is like water: clear and without flaw. The image of the Great Dao is difficult to depict, and the true subtle state of Yi is especially hard to illustrate. It changes and spreads, each part taking shape on its own, like an egg: clear and turbid, Yin and Yang, joined together, extending about an inch in every direction as the original foundation of life. The limbs, five organs, sinews, and bones form afterward. After ten months, the child leaves the womb and is born. An infant’s bones are soft and flexible, and its skin is tender, like lead.

The ancient immortals said, “Before cultivating nature, one must first cultivate life. Only then can one truly set foot on the path of cultivation. Cultivating life without cultivating nature is the greatest failing in cultivation.” Here, “nature” refers to a person’s inner disposition and spirit, while “life” refers to the foundations of life and the physical body. Both Yin and Yang must be cultivated—that is, one must practice the dual cultivation of nature and life—to attain a state in which body and spirit are both perfected and one is united with the truth of the Dao. Thus, one should cultivate life before cultivating nature; once the foundation of life is secure, one must continue by cultivating nature. Cultivating life alone cannot transcend the ordinary, and cultivating nature alone cannot attain sagehood.

When the Immortal Elder discusses nurturing nature, he begins by saying, “If you wish to nurture nature and extend your lifespan, you must first cultivate life.” In other words, anyone who wishes to care for their inner nature must first secure the foundations of life. A person of exceptionally high innate capacity may cultivate nature directly, without first cultivating life, and attain completion in a single step, entering the realm of the sages. But such people are rare; most have middling or lesser capacity. If they rush to nurture nature without first cultivating life, their foundation may remain unstable. Any lapse could lead to bodily decline and leave them with nowhere to ground their cultivation. They must therefore first practice the active Way of return to strengthen the foundation of life, then practice the Way of embracing the One through Wuwei (non-action) to complete their cultivation of nature. When both nature and life have been cultivated, one can keep one’s original life from perishing and remain in harmony with Heaven and Earth for a long time.

The key to extending life is “deferring the appointed time”—that is, postponing death. To postpone death, one must first understand how people die; to understand how they die, one must first consider how they are born. Confucius said, “If you do not understand life, how can you understand death?” Without knowing how life takes shape, it is difficult to understand the cause of death. Once the workings by which life takes shape are understood, the turning point between life and death can also be grasped, making it possible to avoid death and prolong life.

At first, a person has neither form nor body. Only later, when the parents unite, does Jing and Qi take up residence within, and the person comes into being from nothing. The male’s Qi belongs to Yang, and the female’s Qi belongs to Yin. When Yin and Yang unite, the person’s hun and po also dwell within. The hun is the Yang spirit, like the sun; the po is the Yin spirit, like the moon. Each depends on the other. The scripture also connects the hun with “nature,” placing it within the body, and the po with “essence,” assigning it responsibility for the body’s outward form. The five viscera and six bowels are like inner rooms, while the limbs and bones are like the surrounding walls of a city. Only when the body is whole can life dwell securely within it.

When Yin and Yang unite, the feelings of man and woman come together, like Qian above and Kun below. Qian belongs to Yang: it moves and gives forth Qi. Kun belongs to Yin: it is still and receives, becoming the place where life is conceived. When the Qi of man and woman meet and gather, the fetus begins to form. The scripture uses numbers to describe how the Qi of the Five Phases changes within the womb: nine is the number of Metal, seven of Fire, eight of Wood, and six of Water. Here, “nine returns and seven reverses; eight returns and six settles” describes the Yin and Yang Qi of man and woman returning to the womb, moving from the outside to the inside. It does not refer to the method of reversal and return commonly discussed in cultivation.

The scripture goes on to say that a man’s Jing belongs to Metal, while a woman’s blood belongs to Fire. When Metal and Fire unite, they also contain Qi of Water and Wood. Water, Fire, Wood, and Metal act upon one another and, through transformation, produce Earth. This is the initial formation of the Five Phases. When Yin and Yang unite, a trace of Qi from the “primordial transformation” also enters the womb, first taking the form of Water. This “Water” is not ordinary water, but the primordial Qi described in the scripture as preceding Heaven and Earth, pure and formless, and regarded as a symbol of the Dao. Without this Qi, the Jing and blood of man and woman could not form life. It has no form, yet it can give rise to form. Through successive transformations, it gives rise to the kidneys, heart, liver, lungs, and spleen, corresponding respectively to Water, Fire, Wood, Metal, and Earth.

Although the Five Phases are distributed among different parts of the body, their Qi remains a unified whole, like the black and white mingled within an egg. Yin and Yang combine, containing primordial Qi in an undivided state. The scripture therefore says that it “extends one inch in every direction”: this is the original root of life. Once the root is established, its branches grow naturally. The limbs, five viscera, sinews, and bones all gradually take shape through the transformation of this Qi. After ten months, when the Qi is full and the body complete, the fetus leaves the mother’s body. This is the natural process by which a person is born.

If people can understand how life takes shape, harmonize the true Yin and true Yang within themselves, and then turn this process of generation around for the purpose of cultivation, they can gather anew the breath of Qi from within the womb and form the “sacred embryo”—a term in Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy) for the result of inner cultivation. By nurturing it for ten months, they can ultimately attain the state of “a body beyond the body.” The scripture holds that accomplishing this allows one to postpone death and extend life.

Being born by following the transformations of Yin and Yang is already difficult to understand; reversing this process to become an immortal is even harder. But if one can see clearly how a person comes into being, one will discover that the Way to immortality lies in turning the direction of that process around. Sadly, people are unwilling to examine carefully how life takes shape, yet presume they can learn the Way of the immortals directly. This is truly lamentable.

The Kan trigram represents the male and the Moon; the Li trigram represents the female and the Sun. The Sun bestows its beneficence, and the Moon unfolds its radiance. The Moon receives the Sun’s transformations without thereby harming itself. When Yang energy loses its proper accord, Yin energy encroaches on its light. Thus come the dark Moon, the new Moon, and eclipses of the Sun and Moon—when celestial bodies obscure one another. They conceal and press upon each other; the form of Yang energy diminishes, and when Yin energy grows excessive, calamity follows.

Male and female depend on one another, nourishing the vitality of life through gathering and releasing. The female and male unite, each responding to the other according to their kind. Metal transforms into Water, whose nature is fluid and unsettled; Fire transforms into Earth, and Water can no longer flow. The male actively sends forth outward, while the female quietly contains inward. If the sending forth exceeds its proper measure, the female restrains it. The Po, the spiritual aspect tied to the bodily form, constrains the Hun, the aspect tied to mental activity, keeping it from excessive abandon.

Cultivation depends on maintaining the proper measure: neither leaning toward cold nor toward heat, advancing and retreating in accord with the moment, and allowing Yin and Yang each to find harmony, so that both may reveal their corresponding signs.

The previous section discussed the principles of human reproduction, explaining that life takes shape through the union of Yin and Yang. This section extends that principle to explain that cultivating immortality also depends on the union of Yin and Yang: if they cannot come together, the spiritual embryo cannot form.

The Kan trigram is associated with the male, its inherent nature is Yin, and it symbolizes the moon. The Li trigram is associated with the female, its inherent nature is Yang, and it symbolizes the sun. The moon is originally dark, purely Yin and without Yang; it is only through the sun that it becomes bright. At the turn between the last day of the lunar month and the first day of the next, the moon and sun meet: the sun gives its light, and the moon spreads its radiance. The moon receives the sun’s transformation, and its formerly dark form becomes bright without being harmed. This describes the sun and moon meeting in accordance with the seasons.

When the sun and moon lose their proper correspondence and Yin and Yang fall into disorder, the moon’s Yin energy intrudes upon the sun, causing a solar or lunar eclipse that obscures their radiance. The paths along which the sun and moon move cross at an angle. When they meet, if the sun is below and the moon above, the sun’s light shines on the moon, making it appear bright. But if their positions coincide exactly, they obscure one another; Yin and Yang contend instead of harmonizing. When this happens at the new moon, it is a solar eclipse; at the full moon, it is a lunar eclipse. In a solar eclipse, Yin obscures Yang; in a lunar eclipse, Yang obscures Yin. Both phenomena result from one of the two becoming excessive.

A man and a woman can have offspring only by joining together, with one receiving and the other giving. The mating of male and female creatures and the reproduction of like kinds likewise follow the principle that Yin and Yang unite and life continues. As the ancients also said, metal transforms into water, which flows without ceasing and thus acquires its momentum; fire transforms into earth, which builds up and grows heavy, obstructing the flow of water. The same applies to the nature of men and women: the man is active and gives outwardly; the woman is still and receives inwardly. If a man becomes infatuated with women, indulges his desires excessively, and engages in sexual union without restraint, he loses his natural role as the active giver and instead becomes controlled by female beauty. Here Yin and Yang seem to unite but are in fact out of balance. Life carries death within it, and disaster follows.

We can therefore see that although the union of Yin and Yang is essential, it matters even more that they unite in proper balance. What accords with this balance is true Yin and true Yang; what does not is false Yin and false Yang. Their difference lies in whether they are properly balanced.

Those who cultivate the Dao should use the firm, decisive true nature of the Po to restrain the soul’s spiritual nature. Here, “Po” refers to the firm and decisive Dao-heart, while “soul” refers to the gentle, responsive human heart. The yielding nature readily shifts with circumstances, is drawn by external things, and responds emotionally to what it sees. The firm nature, by contrast, has greater power to decide and take charge. When the firmness of the Po restrains the soul’s yielding nature, the human heart becomes calm and the Dao-heart becomes clear. In this way, nature and emotion come into harmony, and firmness and yielding become one.

Yet even when using the Dao-heart to restrain the human heart, the goal should simply be to make the human heart compliant. If restraint goes too far, and one is constantly intent on controlling the human heart, the Dao-heart will instead be obscured: clarity pushed to its extreme turns into darkness. Once the Dao-heart loses its guard, the human heart takes advantage and rises up. Nature and emotion fall out of harmony, and good fortune turns to danger. Thus one must neither indulge too freely nor exert oneself excessively.

“Neither cold nor hot” means that nature is undisturbed and emotion is not clouded: one neither deliberately forgets nor forcefully encourages. “Advance and retreat at the proper time” means removing wrongful thoughts, preserving sincerity, and understanding how to uphold balance while applying it flexibly. Nothing, whether great or small, is allowed to suffer harm. Both sides can be brought to fulfillment and each can find harmony, without harming the other and while benefiting oneself. When nature and emotion express their true intent and Yin and Yang merge as one, they accord with the principle that the sun and moon meet and move in proper measure.

The ospreys call to one another in harmony, dwelling on the sandbanks in the river. A beautiful, gentle woman is the ideal mate for a noble man. The male bird does not live alone, nor does the female dwell in solitude. On the Black Tortoise, the divine creature formed from tortoise and serpent, the tortoise and serpent coil around one another in mutual dependence. This shows that female and male must cooperate and rely on each other.

Suppose two women share a room, and both are beautiful. Even if Su Qin were asked to persuade them and Zhang Yi to act as matchmaker, using all their eloquence and every pleasing word to bring them together as husband and wife, they would never come to know each other, even if their hair fell out and their teeth decayed. The example of marriage between man and woman illustrates that Yin and Yang must unite; persuasive words alone cannot truly join what is mismatched.

If the kinds of ingredients are wrong, their properties differ, their proportions and amounts are unsuitable, and the essential rules are disregarded, then even if the Yellow Emperor personally tended the alchemical furnace, Taiyi—the Daoist deity—controlled the firing, the Eight Lords, legendary alchemists, took part in the preparation, and the King of Huainan, who was said to have studied the Dao and alchemy with them, blended the ingredients, all would be to no avail. It would make no difference to build a high altar, pave its steps with jade, present precious offerings, respectfully hold the register and kneel in prayer, imploring the gods and spirits for mercy, then bathe, observe purification, and await success. It would be like mending a pot with glue or treating a sore with sal ammoniac, applying ice when one is cold and hot broth when one is feverish. Even making the tortoise and serpent dance would only lead further from the right path.

The previous section explained that only by balancing Yin-Yang and advancing or withdrawing at the right time can one make progress in cultivating the Dao. This section points out the problems caused by isolated Yin or Yang and by things that do not work together, so that readers may understand the principle and correct their mistakes.

The Book of Changes says, “One Yin and one Yang: this is the Dao.” Only when Yin and Yang are both present and in harmony can they be called the Dao; isolated Yin or deficient Yang, each lacking its counterpart, does not accord with the Dao. For this reason, when Confucius selected and arranged the Book of Songs, he placed “Guanju” at the beginning to show that the way of the noble person begins with the relationship between husband and wife. The way of husband and wife also embodies the principle by which Yin and Yang transform and give birth to the myriad things.

Among the living and nonliving things between Heaven and Earth, there are distinctions between female and male: the female belongs to Yin, and the male to Yang. Only when one female and one male, one Yin and one Yang, depend on each other can they generate and multiply. Human beings are born through the union of men and women; animals, too, each have their own ways of mating and producing offspring. These two examples make clear the principle that female and male unite and depend on one another. If two women lived together, no matter how beautiful they were, becoming spouses could not enable them to bear children. The principle is plain to see.

Some people in the world pursue the Dao blindly. They do not understand how Yin and Yang work together or how female and male depend on each other. They abandon the roots of their own nature and life—the true Yin and true Yang, meaning the original Yin and Yang spoken of in cultivation—and instead seek outside themselves things that do not accord with their own nature. Some turn to “cai zhan,” using sexual union as a means of replenishment; some mistakenly understand alchemy as firing substances in a furnace; some set up altars and worship the Dipper, or pay homage to divine beings; others fast and pray to spirits, hoping to prolong their lives and become immortal. These practices are like trying to mend a pot with glue or treat a sore with niter; like trying to dispel cold by adding ice, or reduce a fever with hot water. Their methods run counter to their aims. It is like asking a tortoise to fly or a snake to dance: how could a tortoise fly, or a snake dance? Would that not depart even further from what is reasonable?

At the beginning of this section, the Immortal Master uses “Guanju” and the tortoise and snake to explain how Yin and Yang, female and male, depend on each other. He then points out that things of different natures cannot be treated as though they were the same, thereby offering guidance to later students with painstaking care. Those who pursue the Dao blindly should be able to learn from this.

One with high-level cultivation aligned with the Great Dao follows nature, seeks nothing by force, and does not deliberately investigate or search. One with lower-level cultivation, by contrast, acts and exerts effort without pause. When one understands “knowing the white and holding to the black,” the spirit becomes naturally manifest. Here, “white” refers to the essence of metal, a term in alchemy symbolizing metal’s quintessence; “black” refers to the foundation of water, symbolizing water’s root. Metal and water have different natures. By revealing the principles behind them to later students, the scripture shows great compassion, allowing all kinds of bewildered people to gain understanding.

Water is the pivot of the Dao. It sheds complicated names and returns to the One. It is the beginning of Yin-Yang and contains the mysterious Yellow Sprout, an internal alchemy term symbolizing the first emergence of the elixir substance. It governs the Five Metals and is also called the Northern River Chariot, an alchemical term for the mechanism of movement associated with water and lead. Lead is black on the outside, yet within it contains golden radiance. It is like someone dressed in coarse clothes while concealing a precious jade: outwardly ordinary, even dull. Metal is the mother of water, and the mother lies hidden within the child’s womb; water is the child of metal, and the child is concealed in the mother’s womb. The subtle workings of a perfected person are hard to fathom, seeming both present and absent, like things in an abyss that sink and rise in turn.

Metal and water each occupy their own place, each keeping to its direction. During gathering and refining they appear white; after processing, they become red. The refined outer layer serves as a protective guard, while the true elixir substance lies within, in the white interior. The elixir’s shape combines square and round, and it is about one inch in size, blended and congealed as one. It is born before Heaven and Earth and is supremely exalted. Walls and gates stand beside it, shaped like the immortal realm of Penglai. It is enclosed all around, yet passages connect its parts. Its defenses are close, able to keep out evil and delusion, and its winding, interconnected structure guards against the unexpected.

In cultivation, the mind may be free of thought, but it is difficult to avoid worry and mental strain. Shen and Qi fill it, leaving no room for external things to remain. Guard it and it flourishes; lose it and it declines. Whether moving, still, or at rest, it is always with the person.

The preceding passage says that to cultivate the Dao, one must find things that are of the same kind as oneself and resonate with oneself; only then can one achieve results. Without such resonance, success is difficult. Broadly speaking, there are two paths of cultivation: one preserves body and spirit through the Dao, while the other uses techniques and methods to prolong life.

Those of high De (Virtue/Power), whose innate nature remains undamaged, preserve themselves through the Dao. By embracing the Origin and holding to the One, and by following the path of Wuwei (non-action), they can complete their cultivation. Hence the saying, “High De acts without action and does not seek through examination”: there is no need for deliberate seeking or scrutiny. Those of low De (Virtue/Power), whose nature has already been damaged and who therefore need cultivation, rely on practices to prolong life. They progress from forced effort toward ease and naturalness, following the path of purposeful action until they can return to their Origin. Hence the saying, “Low De acts, and its work never ceases”: those of low De must continue to apply themselves.

Those of high De need not seek deliberately because their innate innocence remains intact, untouched by outside influences and habits. If they awaken to their nature all at once, they need no further practice or verification and can transcend directly. Those of low De, however, have already lost some of that innate innocence, and discriminating consciousness has begun to operate. Even if they awaken to their nature, they cannot immediately bring body and mind fully under control. They must cultivate themselves step by step, increasing what should be increased and diminishing what should be diminished, until there is nothing left to increase or diminish. Only when they have mastered principle and developed deep benevolence do they reach a state in which they can rest. This is precisely the value of sustained effort. Those of high and low De have different foundations and therefore different methods of cultivation. Yet when those of low De have mastered principle and developed deep benevolence, they too return to the same path as those of high De. As the Doctrine of the Mean says, some practice with ease, some because they recognize its benefits, and some through effort; their achievements are ultimately the same.

The essential point of sustained effort for those of low De is to return from the acquired to the prenatal: in other words, “know the white and hold to the black.” “White” refers to the clear, pure mind of the Dao; “black” refers to the dark, hidden human mind. Recognizing the clarity of the mind of the Dao allows it to become full. Holding to the darkness of the human mind and keeping it empty and still allows that mind to become vacant. The true knowing of the mind of the Dao and the numinous knowing of the human mind then merge into one, with firmness and softness working together. Though the process is elusive and hard to grasp, signs of it appear; though profound and hard to express, it contains essence and Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit) naturally manifests. This “divine radiance” is also called the prenatal True One Qi, the prenatal True One Jing (essence), or the Valley Spirit. It is the wondrous spirit formed when Yin and Yang Qi intermingle. When Yin and Yang disperse, it grows dim and loses its light, as though the divine radiance had departed. When Yin and Yang unite, it becomes clear and manifest, as though the divine radiance had arrived. Hence the saying: “Know the white and hold to the black; the divine radiance will come of itself.”

“White is the essence of Metal; black is the foundation of Water” means that the true knowing contained in the mind of the Dao can bring forth true feeling. Its virtue is firm and strong, it belongs to Qian, and it is symbolized by “the essence of Metal.” The numinous knowing held within the human mind has a yielding virtue, belongs to Kun, and is symbolized by “the foundation of Water.” Numinous knowing does not originally belong to Water but to Fire; it is, however, hidden within the human mind. If one holds to the darkness of the human mind and brings it to emptiness and stillness, deviant Fire will subside. Numinous knowing will become yielding and, amid elusiveness and profundity, connect with true knowing. When harmonious Qi rises and permeates, it gives birth to “True One Water,” which is why black is called the foundation of Water.

Water is generated by the Qi of Heaven’s One. It is the pivot of the Dao, the master of the Five Metals, and the root of Yin and Yang. It contains the “Yellow Sprout” and bears the upright Qi of the Northern Waterwheel. When the numinous knowing in the human mind reaches emptiness and stillness, outside, mixed Qi can no longer disturb it. When the true knowing of the mind of the Dao appears, vitality returns. This is like plants sprouting underground, their shoots tender yellow and their substance pure; hence the name “Yellow Sprout.” Yang Qi rises by means of Water, which is why it is also called the “Waterwheel.” Yang Qi is born from within Yin, which is why it is also called “divine radiance.” These names all describe that one portion of firm, upright Qi contained in the true knowing of the mind of the Dao.

This upright Qi is like black lead: black on the outside, white within, with golden splendor hidden inside. It is also like someone dressed in coarse cloth who carries fine jade in their breast: outwardly plain, yet inwardly precious. When people pass from the prenatal state into the acquired state, deluded feelings give rise to the water of desire, and Metal is the mother of Water. The cultivator returns from the acquired to the prenatal, allowing white to emerge from black. Then refined Water can give rise to the true feeling contained in true knowing, while the mother is concealed within the child. This is called Water turning back to generate Metal. Refined Water also arises through true feeling, and Water is the child of Metal. When the Metal of acquired true feeling operates within the prenatal, it can in turn generate refined Water; the child is then hidden within the embrace of child and mother. This is called Metal generating Water again.

When Metal generates Water, it follows the other’s needs to bring forth delight, responding to the conditions of the acquired state. When Water generates Metal, it reverses the process to preserve one’s own root and return to the prenatal state. As Metal and Water generate one another, the two functions of following and reversing operate together without harming either side. It is within this process that the True Person comes into being. The “True Person” is also called the divine radiance or the Sacred Embryo; it refers to the form produced when the prenatal Qi of True Emptiness and the True One congeals. The True Person is wondrous and unfathomable, confined neither to form nor to emptiness. At times it is still and motionless; at times it manifests through response. Unbound by existence or nonexistence, movement or stillness, it contains actual presence within the utmost emptiness and embodies all the Qi of Yin-Yang and the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water). Hence the saying that, after withdrawal into concealment, each kind of Qi keeps to its proper place: when the Sacred Embryo congeals and the True Person appears, the Five Origins and Five Virtues merge into a single Qi, while the Five Substances and Five Thieves each remain within their bounds. They can no longer harm the cultivation of the Dao; instead, they can assist it.

“Gathering it, it resembles white” describes the initial stage, when emptiness in the chamber gives rise to white and the Sacred Embryo congeals. “Refining it, it becomes red” describes the next stage, when Fire is used to refine Metal and strengthen the Sacred Embryo. When the Waidan (external alchemy) is complete, it becomes a protective outer barrier; the Neidan (internal alchemy) within is then perfected and made clear. “A square and round space, each one inch across” refers to a round exterior and a square interior, with the inside and outside forming a single Qi. “Blended together and held fast” means that Shen gathers and Qi accumulates, Shen and Qi fuse, and inside and outside become one. Once Shen and Qi have fused, the numinous nature manifests and moves freely without obstruction. It was born before Heaven and Earth, stands high above, is not constrained by the workings of creation, and cannot be subdued by the myriad things. It enters a state of true emptiness without obstruction, undifferentiated and one; hence it is said to “resemble Penghu,” the Isles of the Immortals.

On reaching this state, one becomes fully integrated and pervasive, radiant with light; innate knowing and innate ability reappear, restoring one’s original nature. After attaining this root, one must still guard against danger and protect it with care, sealing the foundation securely. Hence the scripture speaks of surrounding walls and guarded gates. Enclosures and closed entrances prevent outside things from entering; tight security and the exclusion of deviant thoughts remove disturbances within the mind. Winding covered walkways prepare one for the unexpected: the teaching is to be watchful and cautious even where nothing can be seen or heard. One leaves no hidden place in the heart and overlooks nothing, however small. Like connected winding corridors where darkness and light form a single whole, not a trace of deviant Qi is allowed to remain in the heart.

“Thought is possible; anxiety and toil are difficult” means that although cultivation involves action, one must preserve Wuwei within action; although it requires practice, one must not force oneself into exhausting effort. It is enough to remain without thought and without action, holding to purity and undivided focus and keeping to the Middle. These words of caution remind cultivators to be vigilant at crucial moments and never slacken, lest they bring failure upon themselves.

After the Sacred Embryo has congealed and Shen and Qi have become abundant, Yang reaches its extreme and turns into Yin, so danger is easily drawn near. With proper protection, after ten months the embryo Qi matures and the alchemical work flourishes. If one fails to guard it, Qi may scatter and Shen depart in an instant, leaving the work on the verge of failure. Therefore, the sages teach that at this stage one should stop the furnace fire and cease its operation, using the method of Yin Talisman to aid softness with firmness and bring movement and stillness, activity and rest, into harmony, always remaining in accord with the Dao. At this point, one should move from purposeful action into Wuwei, completing the work of life first and then the work of nature, cultivating at the point before life is born and before form takes shape. This is the path by which those of low De continue their cultivation and progress from force toward naturalness. Once they reach the natural state, their practice becomes the same as that of those of high De. The foregoing has discussed the principles of life; what follows will discuss the principles of nature, and students should take note.

Cultivate yourself inwardly, bringing the mind to a state of calm, stillness, and openness. Draw in and conceal the innate radiance of your spirit, then turn your inner awareness toward the body. Gather in the senses—hearing, sight, speech, and the rest—so that the mind and spirit do not scatter outward; strengthen the spiritual root within. Quiet the outward brilliance of the sun, moon, and stars, and gently nourish the “pearl of the child,” a term in internal alchemy for the essence and Qi gathered into one. It cannot be seen, yet it lies close within you and is easy to find. Practice diligently, morning and evening without pause.

After three years of “concealing and nourishing the elixir,” the internal alchemical practice of gathering in and warming essence and Qi, you will be able to travel far with a lightened body. Even if you cross through flames, they will not burn you; if you enter water, you will not get wet. You will be able to appear and disappear, living in lasting ease and free of worry. Once your Dao practice has reached completion and your De is perfected, withdraw from the world and await the right moment. The Great One, Taiyi, a revered Daoist deity, will then summon you and move you to the Central Region. When your merit and practice are complete, you will ascend to the realm of the immortals and receive the registers and charts bestowed by Heaven.

To attain realization, one must cultivate both nature and life, and the work as a whole proceeds in two stages. The outer medicine brings life to fulfillment, while the inner medicine cultivates nature. The outer medicine is drawn from the primordial things within the transformations of Heaven and Earth, restoring a person to the primordial state. The inner medicine safeguards one’s original true nature within, transforming the conditioned state. Primordial cultivation enables one to transcend the illusory physical body; conditioned cultivation enables one to transcend the Dharma body. Some people in the world do not understand the deeper meaning of the teachings left by the sages. They mistakenly take the outer medicine to mean refining an elixir in a furnace, and the inner medicine to mean solitary quiet meditation. In truth, primordial True Yang comes from the void and originally belongs to “the other,” so it is called the outer medicine. Once primordial True Yang arrives, it returns to the root and restores life; it then belongs to “the self,” so it is called the inner medicine. Inner and outer, nature and life, have different names, but share the same source. Both may be called “the primordial beyond the primordial.”

This section proposes “nurturing and safeguarding oneself through inner practice,” making the principle of inner and outer clear. It also accords with the aim stated at the beginning of the text: to nurture nature, prolong life, and clarify the relationship between nature and life. “Self” refers to nature. Once the Golden Elixir has been cultivated and the foundation of life secured, one must promptly cultivate nature in order to transcend the Dharma body. The way of cultivating nature is the stage of refining Shen (spirit) until it returns to the void. That is why this section states directly: “Nurture and safeguard oneself through inner practice; quiet the mind and body, and return to the void.” To nurture nature, let the body rest in the realm of emptiness and the mind settle without desire. Let neither body nor mind cling to anything, until form and spirit are both wondrous and one accords with the Dao (the Way) in truth.

“To conceal one’s brightness at its source and turn inward to illumine the body” means to draw in one’s outwardly displayed intelligence and abilities, remain modest and unobtrusive, and hold fast to the central and upright. “Close the apertures and firmly build the numinous root” means to care for Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen with care, and to remain single-minded and undivided. “Let the Three Lights sink away, and gently nourish the sprout within” means to gather inward the essences of the Three Treasures—Jing, Qi, and Shen—and safeguard the Cinnabar Origin without a moment’s lapse. “Numinous sprout” and “child pearl” are both other names for the sacred embryo. The sacred embryo has Qi but no tangible form, which is why it is said, “Look, and it cannot be seen.” Though invisible, it is within oneself, close to the heart and chest. Others do not know of it, but the practitioner does. Therefore, one must keep nurturing it continuously, in a state that is neither fully present nor absent: do not forget it, but do not force it either. Remain alert day and night, practice diligently, and never cease, morning or evening.

After ten months of gentle nurturing, the elixir matures, Yin energy is completely depleted, and when the moment arrives, one can transform and emerge, forming “a body beyond the body.” Then comes a further three years of nursing: restrain the breath to strengthen the numinous spirit, and take food at regular times to consolidate the body. In this way, one can come and go freely, travel far with a light body, pass through fire without burning, and enter water without getting wet. When gathered, one manifests a body; when dispersed, one transforms into Qi. At this stage of cultivation, there is no calamity or hardship, only lasting joy and freedom from worry; the Dao fruit is attained and De (Virtue/Power) brought to completion. Taiyi, a revered Daoist deity, will summon the practitioner to dwell in a blessed cave realm of the Central Continent, where they will share the heavenly allotment with the perfected beings. Afterward, one may return to the dusty world to accumulate merit and good works until three thousand merits and eight hundred deeds are complete. At that time, the Jade Emperor will issue an edict appointing the practitioner to a position in the Purple Palace, the abode of immortals and perfected beings, and the Great Man’s work of cultivating the Dao will be complete.

The sages of old held the wondrous Dao (the Way) in their hearts and upheld the principle of truth. They practiced the alchemical method of the Nine Cauldrons; once their work was complete, they withdrew from view. They cultivated and conserved Jing and Qi, and nourished Shen, bringing body and mind into harmony with the sun, moon, and stars. Bodily fluids moistened the skin and its pores, the sinews and bones grew strong, pernicious influences were driven away, and vital energy endured. Through long accumulation, they ultimately transformed their bodies and became immortals.

Taking pity on later generations who were drawn to the arts of the Dao, the sages followed clues left by the ancients, explained old writings, compiled books and diagrams, and passed them down. Yet these works revealed only the branches and leaves, concealing the roots. They also used many different names, making much of the writing obscure and confusing. Even when practitioners of the Dao obtained these books, they often treasured them throughout their lives without being able to understand them. Fathers passed them to sons, and grandchildren inherited them from their grandparents. Though they were transmitted from generation to generation, their meaning remained baffling, until almost no one truly understood their contents. As a result, some who studied in hopes of entering government service abandoned that path; farmers neglected their fields, merchants left their goods behind, and those determined to cultivate the Dao fell into poverty.

I feel deep sorrow over this, so I have organized and written this text, striving to use concise, accessible language and to present the material clearly and without needless complexity. I have set it out point by point so that readers can check and understand it. The quantities of the ingredients are fixed, and following the sequence makes it possible to proceed step by step. I have therefore written it in the form of verses, to guide readers into its essential points. Those with wisdom should examine it carefully and reflect on it with full attention.

Here, “concealing and refining the Nine Cauldrons” refers to the ancient methods of alchemical cultivation. “Concealed ingestion” is the theme of this text, concerning Daoist practices such as ingesting substances and refining the self.

The principles of cultivating nature and life—one’s inborn nature and lifespan—bring results quickly once truly understood and diligently practiced. Since antiquity, people who attained the Dao and became immortals have appeared in every generation. The biographies of immortals say: “Eight hundred people ascended to heaven with their entire households and homes; three thousand flew up and became immortals. Those who left their bodies while sitting or standing, along with those who achieved lesser attainments, are too numerous to count.” The legendary figures said to have “lifted their homes” include the Yellow Emperor, Xu Zuyang, and Zhang the Celestial Master; those said to have “flown up” include Zhengyang Weng, Ge Xianweng, Heshang Gong, and Chunyang Weng. These sages all succeeded through cultivating the “Seven Reversions and Nine Returns” and the “Great Golden Elixir of Liquid Gold.” To abandon this path of cultivation yet hope to become an immortal is impossible.

The Way of the Golden Elixir means holding within oneself mysterious Qi and embracing the principle of the original and true, while devoting oneself to cultivating the “Nine Cauldrons.” “Mysterious” refers to Qi that is wondrous, unfathomable, and endlessly changing; “true” refers to a principle that is perfectly good, free of evil, and wholly pure. Qi belongs to life; principle belongs to nature. Holding mysterious Qi within establishes the foundation of life; embracing the true principle allows one’s nature to be fully realized. “Subduing” means settling Qi deep within, thereby nurturing a vast and upright vitality and shaping one’s destiny through self-cultivation. “Refining” means tempering the original and true so that innate purity is preserved and one’s nature does not grow dim. “Nine” represents pure Yang without Yin. The sages of antiquity held the mysterious and embraced the true, devoted themselves to settling Qi and refining their nature, and ultimately returned to pure Yang, becoming indestructible as adamant. This is called “subduing and refining the Nine Cauldrons.” It does not mean the Nine Cauldrons used in later times to refine medicines over a furnace and ingest them, nor does it refer to the heretical claim that cultivation consists of sexual union. If the practice were merely furnace alchemy or bedroom arts, how could it be described as holding the mysterious and embracing the true?

According to legend, the Yellow Emperor once refined the Nine Cauldrons at Lake Tai and later rode a dragon up to heaven. Here, “Lake Tai” symbolizes the dragon within Kan, while “Qian” symbolizes pure Yang. Refining the Nine Cauldrons means taking the Yang within Kan to replenish the Yin within Li, restoring the body and mind to their complete, pure Qian-Yang state. It does not refer to actual cauldrons.

The Way of subduing and refining the Nine Cauldrons may appear ordinary on the outside, but within it is subtle and profound. Practitioners restrain their sharpness and conceal their brilliance, contain their spirit, and silently carry out their practice, setting the Qi of creation and of Yin-Yang in motion. The Book of Changes says: “Share the virtue of Heaven and Earth, the brightness of the sun and moon, the order of the four seasons, and the fortunes and misfortunes of spirits and ghosts.” When practitioners accord with nature and Heaven and Earth, they can penetrate the virtue of Heaven and Earth, as though holding the heavenly gate in their grasp and turning the axis of the earth. Use this method to preserve Jing and Qi, and they will become abundant and refined, nourishing the body’s fluids and tissues. Use it to cultivate primordial Qi, and Qi will become abundant, strengthening the sinews and bones. To drive out all kinds of harmful Qi is to make Yin recede; to keep upright Qi constantly present is to make Yang grow. In this way, Yang advances and Yin retreats. With steady, continued cultivation, Yin eventually disappears and Yang becomes pure and complete. The body transforms into Qi, Qi into Shen, and Shen into emptiness, ultimately reaching the state of having “a body beyond the body” and ascending to immortality.

After cultivating oneself to completion, one must also help others. Out of compassion for later generations of Dao seekers who had strayed into side paths and failed to recognize the true Dao, immortals explained ancient texts and wrote books to enlighten those who came after them, leaving a first step for future generations to follow. But the meaning of ancient books is profound, and their authors often indicated only the branches and leaves. Fearing that they would reveal Heaven’s secrets, they did not speak directly about the roots; instead, they concealed their meaning behind their words. Later readers failed to grasp the ancient authors’ intent, so they falsely attributed works to perfected beings, adding writings and commentaries at will, and even distorting ancient texts to mislead later students. For example, the “Lectures on the Yinfu,” “Lectures on the Nanhua Men,” and the Record of the Golden Casket of Jade Clarity, attributed to names such as the Celestial Perfected Lord and Liezi, were forged by later writers or recklessly extended under the names of ancient sages. Later Dao seekers could not tell truth from falsehood. When they came across such erroneous writings, they treasured them all their lives as priceless possessions. They then passed them down from generation to generation, transmitting confusion through confusion, with the blind leading the blind. As a result, some abandoned official careers, others neglected farming, and merchants and ambitious people gave up their livelihoods, yet none achieved anything.

Out of compassion, the Immortal Master wrote the Cantong qi. Its language is concise and its meaning easy to grasp; its explanations are to the point and its methods of cultivation are not complicated. It sets out the principles in sections and verifies their reasoning. It explains in full the stages of the firing process and the measures of the medicines. This work probes the source of Heaven and Earth and penetrates the subtleties of principle; it is sufficient to show all those who cultivate nature and life the essential way forward. Those who are determined to cultivate the Dao should consider it carefully and study it repeatedly. In time, they will naturally begin to see the path.

Unfortunately, later generations treated the Cantong qi as a book about Najia, the practice of matching the Heavenly Stems and Earthly Branches with the trigrams. Some guessed that it described refining medicines over a furnace, while others used it to support the bedroom arts. Their misreadings are like Confucius grieving when he saw the qilin, or Bian He being misunderstood when he presented a jade stone. Even the Immortal Master could do nothing about it.

The riverbank maiden, a term in alchemy for mercury or a Yin substance that is prone to scatter and difficult to control, is supremely subtle and wondrous. At the touch of fire, she flies apart and vanishes without a trace; not even a speck of dust can be found. Thus Confucius had no choice but to grieve and weep when the qilin died, and Bian He had no choice but to embrace the jade and weep after being shamed for offering it. Even an immortal elder can do nothing about this.

The riverbank maiden is supremely subtle and wondrous: at the touch of fire, she flies apart, leaving no trace. When she hides, she vanishes like a ghost or slips away like a dragon; no one knows where she is. To control her, one must take the yellow sprout—the alchemical term for a subtle substance that serves as the fundamental ingredient—as one’s foundation.

When things do not accord with the principles of Yin-Yang, they violate the Way of Heaven and turn away from their original nature. If a hen incubates eggs alone, the chicks will not be fully formed. Why is this? Because the Yin and Yang have not yet joined, the Three and Five have not met, and firmness and softness remain apart.

The subtle workings by which all things between Heaven and Earth come into being happen of themselves: fire burns upward, and water flows downward. They do not operate this way because a teacher stands nearby to direct them. The Qi of nature brings all things to their proper places and keeps them in order; this pattern cannot be altered at will.

Observe the union of male and female: firmness and softness come together, joined so closely that they are hard to part. They follow a measured rhythm and a mutual accord; no human technique manipulates them. A male infant is born face down, while a female infant is born face up. They receive the primordial Qi within the womb, and this does not become evident only at birth. At death, too, they display corresponding states. Their parents do not teach them to be this way; the foundation is established at the very beginning of life, when the two unite.

As stated above, the sages of old all harbored the mystery and embraced the true Dao. Even so, the patterns revealed in the life and death of all things are not caused by parental instruction. Their foundation is fixed at the very beginning, when the two unite.

The previous section explained that the sages of antiquity held the mysterious within their hearts and preserved their true nature, and so were able to attain the Dao. To “hold the mysterious and preserve the true” means to bring firmness and yielding into balance, and to unite Yin and Yang.

The “Maiden” refers to the Yin component of the Li trigram. It serves as a metaphor for the mind’s capacity for awareness: the consciousness that perceives and makes distinctions. The mind’s discursive spirit—the consciousness that thinks and judges, yet is easily swayed by circumstances—is by nature unsettled. Through awareness, it gives rise to deluded thoughts, like a woman running wild along a riverbank; hence the metaphor “Maiden by the River.” Awareness by nature drifts and wanders, stirring feelings and thoughts whenever it encounters external circumstances, which makes it seem lively and responsive. Because it rises and falls with circumstances and is constantly changing, it is called “spirit.” This is the clearly discerning, keenly perceptive discursive spirit. It likes activity and dislikes stillness. At the slightest stir of inner fire, thoughts scatter and race away, vanishing in an instant, and one no longer knows where they have gone.

To bring this state under control, one must take the “Yellow Sprout” as the foundation. The “Yellow Sprout” refers to the Yang component of the Kan trigram. It serves as a metaphor for the mind’s Dao-centered true knowing: understanding that accords with one’s original nature. True knowing contains genuine feeling, and genuine feeling holds true intent. This true intent is a small force of ceaseless generation, and is therefore also called the “Yellow Sprout.” True intent belongs to Earth. When true Earth appears, Yang energy and the power of life turn back; it is like a yellow sprout emerging from the soil and gradually growing after taking root.

Awareness that turns with circumstances belongs to Yin; the true intent within true knowing belongs to Yang. Using true intent to steady the wandering mind is like using a cane to help someone stand firm. The discursive spirit can no longer arise recklessly, and the human mind no longer stirs without cause; awareness thus returns to true knowing. In this way, awareness not only stops scattering in every direction, but can also help nourish and protect true knowing. True knowing and awareness then become one: Yin and Yang respond to each other, and the power of life continues without end.

The Book of Changes says, “One Yin and one Yang: this is called the Dao.” Anything without Yin and Yang goes against the fundamental nature of things. It is like a hen hatching eggs without mating: the chicks that emerge will be incomplete. If Yin and Yang cannot join and continue one another, if the Five Phases cannot interact, and if firmness and yielding remain apart, this does not accord with the natural workings of Yin and Yang in Heaven and Earth, and growth and reproduction cannot take place. Only when Yang energy acts, Yin energy transforms, and the vital essence circulates is there the natural Dao, through which all things can grow and reproduce.

For example, fire rises and water sinks without needing anyone to teach them; each follows its own nature. Male and female unite, and firmness and yielding join, not through arrangements imposed from outside, but through the attraction of like kinds. Likewise, males are born prone and females supine; this is true not only at birth but also after death. Such conditions do not result from anything parents teach or command. They are determined in advance by the natural order of Yin and Yang joining.